


Mos Maiorum

by 21205



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, Dark Magic, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Not Beta Read, Other, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Political, Post-War, Rebuilding, Slow Burn, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, The Old Ways, but its getting better, everyone is morally grey because everyone is human, magic is not good or bad, over-use of shakespeare references, tbh this isn't even proof-read by me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 55,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/21205/pseuds/21205
Summary: A month after the war, Harry finds himself attempting to raise a baby and fix the wizarding world, when all he really wants to do is be a normal teenager. Perhaps with a little bit of help, he can do all three.All is not well, but maybe one day it can be.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 57
Kudos: 304





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is the result of many many years of reading fanfiction. I truly can't say that any of these ideas are my own. Its not very well written, but I needed it to exist. If someone would like to rework it, it is all yours!  
> I'm trying to keep it as realistic as possible. Unlike JK, I really don't think that after the war, 'all was well'. The war destroyed everything. Sacrifices were made. And Harry is now the leader of the Wizarding World, whether he likes it or not.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, even though I'd rather they didn't.  
> Edit: I realised I should probably mention that Andromeda pre-deceased Tonks and Remus in this story. I love Andy I just didn't know how to write her in!

Harry James Potter had, perhaps naively, believed that he would be living as a regular young adult after he had killed Voldemort. He was quickly realising just how wrong he had been.

“Teddy, please,” Harry begged the infant in his arms, his eyes drooping with the effort to stay standing. His godson had been crying and fussing for no less than three hours with colic, and despite the many books and spells and potions he’d received from Molly Weasley, Harry couldn’t get him to stop.

Sighing, he shifted Teddy so that he was resting against his shoulder and made his way from the nursery to the front sitting room. Shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione, Ron, Harry and Teddy had moved in to Grimmauld Place. It wasn’t the homeliest place on earth, but after much work from Kreacher and a few of the elves at Hogwarts, it was at least half-suitable for a baby. Harry had promised himself he’d have found a new place for them to live by now, but he’d simply been so busy with the war clean up and Teddy that he hadn’t had time.

Harry had cast a silencing spell hours ago and Hermione and Ron were asleep, the lucky bastards. To be fair, Harry knew that they were both more than willing to help with Teddy and had looked after him many times during the day while Harry was busy at the Ministry, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept the extra hands at night. Although Hermione would probably roll her eyes at him, Harry couldn’t help but feel that Teddy was his responsibility. Perhaps it was because they were both war orphans, or perhaps it was because promising to protect Teddy had been one of his lasts conversations with Remus, but Harry refused to be another absent godfather – not that it had been Sirius’ fault that Harry hadn’t met him until he was thirteen. 

Suddenly, Harry felt the wards of Grimmauld Place shift. Frowning, he drew his wand, holding Teddy protectively. As far as he was aware, it was only the Weasleys, Hermione, Kingsley and himself who could see the house under the fidelius charm, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Making his way to the front door, he peeked through the spy hole.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked with shock, opening the door.

Draco Malfoy was paler than he’d been at the Death Eater trials. Swaying on the spot, he looked at Harry with surprise. “Potter,” he greeted quietly, before promptly collapsing.

Harry surged forward, ending the silencing charm and calling for Hermione and Ron. Malfoy’s shirt was drenched in blood. Quickly, he levitated Malfoy to the couch, calling as he did so for Kreacher.

With a pop, the house-elf appeared. “Master called?” he asked, slightly sardonically, before seeing the body lying on the couch. “Young Master Malfoy,” the elf whispered.

Harry handed off Teddy to him. “Can you pop him in his crib? Be careful,” Harry warned. He hadn’t really trusted Kreacher to hold Teddy yet, although he was fairly confident the elf wouldn’t hurt Teddy. The baby was a Black, after all. “Get some towels, a bowl of hot water and some bandages,” he added, ripping Malfoy’s shirt open without hesitation.

Harry blanched. Malfoy’s torso was in ribbons but he couldn’t see much through the blood. “ _Tergeo,”_ he muttered, running his wand over the chest, attempting to siphon off as much blood as possible. “ _Vulnera Sanentur,”_ he cast, watching the pale skin start to stitch together.

He heard Hermione’s gasp and didn’t turn around. “I need dittany and blood-replenishing potions,” he called out rather desperately.

Hermione nodded, _accio-_ ing them at once. Ron rushed over grabbing some towels from Kreacher and pressed hard onto Malfoy’s chest. He blanched at the blood but kept the pressure on the wound. Hermione uncorked the dittany and passed it to Harry. Harry was poured the entire bottle onto Malfoy’s chest. “ _Vulnera Sanentur,_ ” he cast again and again and again, his wand-hand shaking. Hermione started siphoning the blood off while Ron mopped it up.

They worked in silence, with only Harry’s mutterings and the pops of Kreacher apparating in with more towels and water. At some point, the blood stopped flowing, and Hermione started bandaging while Harry continued to stitch the skin together. By the time they were done, Harry’s couch was the colour of wine, Hermione, Harry, Ron and Kreacher were pale and panting, and Malfoy was still unconscious.

When they had caught their breaths, Hermione turned to Harry. “What happened?” she asked quietly.

Harry frowned. “I don’t know. I felt the wards shift, and then he was at the door. He looked surprised to see me though. I don’t think he knew I lived here. Before I could ask, he collapsed.”

Hermione nodded, sighing with exhaustion and leaning against Ron. Ron shifted to move an arm around her, but still looked a bit green. Harry groaned as he stood up. Quietly asking Kreacher to banish the couch, Harry levitated Malfoy to one of the guestrooms, careful to not disturb the bandages. Briefly, he wondered if he should contact the Order, or the Ministry, but frowned when he realised he didn’t know who he could tell. The Ministry would likely take Malfoy for questioning, but considering he was still unconscious, Harry wasn’t particularly keen on letting anyone near his patient. Sighing, he decided to wait until Malfoy woke up. 

Placing Malfoy on the bed, he stood back to think. He called for Kreacher. “Keep an eye on him,” Harry told the elf. “If he wakes, come and get me. I’ll be in the nursery.”

Kreacher nodded, still looking a bit shocked. Harry could sympathise. An hour ago, he was begging an infant to go to sleep, complaining that his life was hard. Now, he had an injured death eater in his guest bed and a couch covered in blood.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry spent the rest of the night alternating between staring anxiously at Teddy and staring anxiously at Malfoy. At some point, he brought Teddy with him into Malfoy’s room and sat in the armchair next to the bed. Harry had no idea what Kreacher had done to make Teddy finally fall asleep, but, given that the baby was smiling in his sleep, the tuft of hair at the top of his head changing colour, Harry was pretty confident that it wasn’t some horrible dark magic.

Malfoy groaned and opened his eyes. “Wha-“ he started to talk, but soon remembered what had happened.

Harry cast a silencing charm over Teddy, hoping he wouldn’t wake up from their conversation. He watched as Malfoy started to panic. “Don’t move, Malfoy. Your skin is barely stitched together. I’ll doubt it’ll hold if you move.”

Malfoy stilled. He looked at Harry. “I’m not in Azkaban,” he observed.

“No,” Harry frowned. “You were cleared.”

Malfoy snorted. “I wasn’t cleared, Potter. I was pardoned.”

“So?” Harry asked. Malfoy rolled his eyes. Harry frowned. “Did you think I’d send you to Azkaban after you showed up like that?”

“No,” Malfoy said softly. “You were always far too trusting.”

Harry nodded. They looked at each other in silence.

“You have a baby,” Malfoy noted after a while.

Harry snorted. “Full of observations today, aren’t you?” He shifted the baby in his arms, feeling pins and needles in his shoulder. “This is Teddy Lupin. I guess he’s your cousin.”

Malfoy paled a touch and nodded. He was silent a bit longer, but then said quietly, “Thank you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. He didn’t think Malfoy was capable of saying those words. “What happened?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I was at St. Mungo’s, dropping off some bloodwork. Someone cursed me.” At Harry’s look, Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Potter, you were the only person in the Wizengamot willing to pardon me. Many people want me dead.”

“That’s not true,” Harry frowned. “It was unanimous.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes again. Harry was starting to hate the smug git. “No one would dare go against the saviour.”

Harry frowned but decided to drop it. “How did you get here? The house is under Fidelius.”

Malfoy nodded tiredly. Quietly, he murmured, “Last year, Severus gave me a piece of paper with this address. He gave me an emergency portkey to take me here if I was ever in a situation where I couldn’t apparate. I vowed not to tell anyone of it.”

Harry breathed in sharply. “An unbreakable?” Malfoy nodded. Harry sighed. “What is with Snape and unbreakable vows?”

Malfoy half-smirked, but quickly rearranged his face into a frown. “I wouldn’t have come here if I knew it was yours. You don’t have to deal with this.”

Harry shrugged. “Add it to the list.”

Malfoy kept frowning. He looked at Harry carefully. “I owe you several life-debts.”

Harry shrugged. “Apparently a lot of people do, according to Hermione. I’m not planning on following up on any of them.”

Malfoy gaped. “You can’t do that!”

Harry looked taken back. “Why not? I don’t need anything from them. The war’s over.”

Malfoy growled in frustration. “You might not have any respect for Wizarding traditions, Potter, but I do,” he ground out.

Potter opened his mouth to argue back, but a voice interrupted them in the doorway. “He’s right, Harry,” Hermione said quietly.

It was Harry’s turn to gape. Glancing at Ron, who was standing just behind Hermione, it was clear that he seemed to think so too. “What?” Harry demanded.

Hermione flounced into the room and sat on the arm of Harry’s chair. She sighed, and Harry could tell he wasn’t going to like whatever she said next. “Look, Harry. Whether you like it or not, you are the leader of the Wizarding World,” Hermione started, rolling her eyes at Harry’s expression. Before he could interrupt, she continued, “Kingsley may be Minister, but only because you support him. You are the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. People respect you.”

Harry raised his eyebrow, wondering where she was going with this. “We can agree to disagree on that, but what does this have to do with life debts?”

“Nothing,” Hermione said calmly. “It has to do with wizarding tradition. No offence, but you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Malfoy smirked, “That much is obvious.” Harry held up a hand before Ron attacked the wizard they had just healed.

Hermione frowned. “Voldemort is dead, yes, but he was only the figure head of the blood purity movement. You may not like it, and believe me, I don’t, but the purebloods have every right to feel the way they do about muggleborns.”

“Excuse me?” Ron exclaimed indignantly. Harry gaped at her.

“Well, obviously, I don’t agree with them, but I can see why they hate people like me,” Hermione said quickly. “They’re scared.”

Malfoy stared at her with appreciation. “You’re smarter than you appear, Granger.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I thank you for the compliment, Malfoy,” she said dryly. Turning to Harry and Ron, she continued. “Honestly, did you two ever pay attention in History of Magic?” Taking one look at them, she sighed. “The blood discussions have been a source of tension in Wizarding society for over a hundred years. I know you’re not going to like to hear this, Harry, but some of the decisions Dumbledore made were not good for wizarding society.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know that, Hermione,” he said dryly. Ron, Hermione and Malfoy looked at him in shock. Harry shrugged. “He raised me to be a slaughtered. He kept me at the Dursley’s because the blood wards were strengthened whenever I spilled blood on their land. I’m not exactly his biggest fan,” he laughed humourlessly. “He did what he had to, to kill Voldemort. So did I.”

Hermione nodded with satisfaction. “I’m glad you know you were manipulated,” she said.

Harry shrugged. “It worked, though.” Ron and Malfoy looked horrified, but Hermione nodded grimly.

“Well, he was doing questionable things before you were born, too,” Hermione continued. “In addition to the whole Grindelwald debacle, he changed a lot of laws about muggleborns. You know, once upon a time, we were told of our magic before we turned 11. The Ministry knows if you’re magical when you’re born. It makes no sense for us to be denied the truth. It puts people in danger.

“Anyway, Dumbledore changed the rules. I’m not really sure why, probably he hoped we would have an appreciation for muggle culture, unlike wizards like Grindelwald. All of a sudden, muggleborns started being introduced to the Wizarding World with no knowledge of the Old Ways. The purebloods weren’t happy. I mean, of course they weren’t, their culture was being erased. Hardly any wizards and witches today practice the Old Ways. People don’t even really celebrate the holidays,” Hermione said sadly.

Ron nodded at this. “We used to celebrate Midsomer Midwinter, Samhain and Beltane in secret.”

Harry frowned. “Why in secret?”

“Because practicing the Old Ways has become synonymous with being Dark,” Malfoy said without preamble. “I’m surprised your parents celebrate, Weasley.”

Ron shrugged. “We may be blood-traitors, but we’re still purebloods. _Olim in via da fortitudinem._ ”

“The Old Ways give strength,” Hermione translated for Harry’s benefit.

Malfoy sighed sadly. “It’s not just a saying, you know. Our magic becomes weaker if we don’t provide it with the proper respect.”

Harry looked up in surprise. “Do you think that’s why I’ve become more powerful?” Draco looked at him with confusion. Harry sighed. “When I killed Voldemort, I took his magic. I don’t know how or why but ever since then I’ve been much more powerful. Is it because Voldemort used to practice the Old Ways?”

Malfoy frowned. “I’m not sure. I doubt it. By the end, the Dark Lord didn’t practice much. He was a psychopath. He forgot what he was fighting for.”

At Harry’s confused look, Hermione sighed. “When Voldemort was younger, before he went mad from making the…” she trailed off, glancing uncomfortably at Malfoy. They had decided not to tell anyone about the Horcruxes. As far as the three were concerned, the less people knew about them, the less likely they’d be to create them. Harry nodded at Hermione, indicating he understood. She continued. “Anyway, before he went properly dark, he wasn’t trying to kill muggleborns.”

Ron and Harry looked at her with surprise. She continued, “The purebloods wanted to take them away from their families and raise them in the Wizarding World. That way, the culture is preserved, and no one is risking revealing magic to muggles.”

Malfoy nodded. “That’s what my father joined for, originally. At least, I think. Also, because the Dark Lord was crazy powerful, and it was suicide in Slytherin house to go against him.” He looked at them. “Don’t get me wrong, he knew what he was doing. He didn’t have any qualms about killing muggleborns. He wasn’t a good person by a stretch of the word.”

Lucius Malfoy had died in Azkaban a week after the battle. Harry had to admit he hadn’t mourned the loss, but he felt sorry for Malfoy now. “Sorry for your loss, Malfoy,” Harry said quietly.

Malfoy snorted. “No, you’re not. I’m not either. He was my father – he was suffering, now he’s not.” He shifted awkwardly under their gaze. “You were saying, Granger.”

“Right, yes,” Hermione startled into action. “Well, I obviously don’t condone taking children away from their parents, but I understand their concerns. Anyway, with all the changes Dumbledore made to centuries old laws, combined with the overall weakening of magic, the purebloods got angry, scared and defensive. That’s how Grindelwald rose to power and that is how Voldemort rose to power. Just because Voldemort is dead, doesn’t mean the issue’s closed.

“If we don’t start acknowledging the Old Ways now, we will either get dragged into another war, or a whole culture will disappear. I’m not okay with that,” Hermione said with determination.

Malfoy looked at her appraisingly. “You continue to surprise me, Granger.”

Hermione tried not to look too pleased. “Anyway, Harry, you are the leader of the Wizarding World now. If we want to make changes, we have to start at the top. That’s you.”

Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks. “But I don’t know anything about the Old Ways.”

Malfoy gaped at him. “Nothing?” he asked outraged. “You’re a Potter for Merlin’s sake. Not to mention the Head of an Ancient and Most Noble House.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Several, actually,” he frowned. “How am I supposed to know the Old Ways. No one even told me I was a wizard until I was 11.”

“What the fuck?” Malfoy asked incredulously. “If Dumbledore wasn’t already dead I might try to kill him again.”

Ron made for his wand, but Harry stopped him. “He was joking, Ron. Well, not really, but he wasn’t threatening us.”

Malfoy looked slightly apologetic but didn’t say anything.

Harry turned to Hermione, “So what’s this got to do with life-debts?”

Hermione shrugged. “I think you should have people honour them. Formally. I’ll have to do some research, but I’m sure it can be mostly symbolic. The people need to see that you respect the Old Ways, and they will too.”

Malfoy nodded his agreement. Suddenly, Hermione gasped. Ron and Harry groaned. At Malfoy’s confused look, Ron explained, “That’s Hermione’s I-just-had-an-idea gasp.” Hermione elbowed him. Ron turned to look at her. “Ow. Am I wrong?”

Hermione deflated. “No.” At their looks she perked up and started to explain. “Malfoy how many life-debts do you owe Harry?”

Malfoy looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt. “Three.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “Would you like to repay them?”

“I would like to honour the ways of the Old. I owe Potter a debt. I can’t formally ask to repay them, as I am not standing up, but yes, I would like to repay them. I don’t want my magic to get any weaker,” Malfoy said quietly.

Hermione looked at Harry questioningly. “What if he was to repay you by teaching you the Old Ways?”

Harry shrugged. “Er, I guess. It might be a good idea. If he’s okay with it.”

Malfoy looked thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. “I was raised my whole life to be a noble Lord. I know how Potter needs to act, and I think I know how to use Potter’s influence to restore the Old Ways in wizarding society. If we do this right, we might be able to prevent another war.”

“You don’t sound hopeful,” Harry noted.

“There will always be another war,” Ron and Malfoy said at the same time, looking as shocked as Hermione and Harry. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at their expressions.

Teddy started to stir, and Harry knew it was time for breakfast. “We’ll leave you to rest, Malfoy. I’ll have Kreacher send up some breakfast.”

They trio made to leave, but Malfoy stopped Harry at the last minute. “Thank you, Potter. I think you might have just agreed to save the Wizarding World again.”

Harry smiled tiredly. “Yeah, I reckon I just did.”


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was trying to burp Teddy in the kitchen when Malfoy made his next appearance the following morning.

“You let him do that on you?” Malfoy asked in disgust as Teddy finally chucked.

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled, cleaning up the mess. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

Malfoy nodded, sitting down at the table when Harry waved him forward. “Thank you for fixing me, Potter. How did you do it? I don’t recall you being particularly good at healing charms.”

Harry nodded, grimacing. “I’m kind of rubbish, actually, but I remembered the spell Snape used on you back in sixth year…” he trailed off. He didn’t know how Malfoy would react to the time Harry almost killed him.

Malfoy merely looked surprised. “You remember?”

“It’s hard to forget,” Harry mumbled, flushing bright red. “Malfoy, I- “

“If you attempt to apologise to me, I will hex you,” Malfoy said angrily. “I was casting the cruciatus curse _._ You were only trying to defend yourself.”

Harry shook his head. “I can take cruciatus. I didn’t know what that spell did. It was seriously irresponsible. I should’ve just left you alone.”

“Yeah, well, I should’ve left the Dark Lord alone. It’s over, anyhow,” Malfoy said simply, nodding at Kreacher aristocratically when his breakfast was presented. He smirked slightly. “Who would’ve thought Mr. Perfect Gryffindor could be irresponsible?” he asked sardonically.

They fell into companionable silence, but Harry couldn’t shake his guilt. He attempted to direct his attention to Teddy, who was now looking up at him with bright purple eyes and green hair.

Hermione and Ron entered, although they slowed down when they took in the scene. It wasn’t every day one saw Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy eating together, after all.

“This is weird,” Ron declared as he collapsed on a chair to Harry’s right.

Everyone simply nodded. He wasn’t wrong.

“Right, Hermione, what’s the plan for today?” Harry asked.

Malfoy looked indignant. “Potter, why are you treating Granger like a receptionist?”

Harry blushed. “I wasn’t meaning to. Hermione’s just really organised and knows what’s going on.”

Hermione waved Malfoy off, but looked slightly pleased. “You’ve got a meeting with Kingsley at 10, and then your needed at Hogwarts to help repair the wards. After lunch you’re free.”

Malfoy nodded. “Great. We can do the bonding then.”

Harry almost spat out his pumpkin juice. “Excuse me. Who, exactly, am I bonding with?”

“Me, of course,” Malfoy said nonchalantly. “I’ll pledge myself to you and then my life debt will be resolved.”

Harry frowned, “Bonding sounds really extreme though, doesn’t it? It sounds like we’re going to be connected.”

Ron nodded. “You will be. Malfoy has to serve you. If you ask for something, it will hurt Malfoy if he doesn’t do what you ask.”

Harry attempted to control his emotions as he called for Kreacher to take Teddy to the nursery. “Let him have half an hour of tummy time. I’ll be up soon.”

As soon as Kreacher was out of sight, Harry rounded on the three at the table. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?” Harry snarled. “That sounds like indentured servitude.”

“It is,” Hermione said quietly. She winced when she noticed the weather changing outside. Dark grey clouds were swarming and the tell-tale sound of thunder grew in the distance. “Get yourself under control, please. You’re affecting the weather again.”

Harry breathed slowly through his nose and the thunder stopped, although the clouds remained. “I don’t want Malfoy to be forced to do whatever I say. That’s something Voldemort would do.”

Malfoy and Ron shuddered. Hermione just rolled her eyes. “Do you really think we’d let you do something like that? It’s fine, Harry, you just have to be really specific with the wording.”

Harry turned to Malfoy. “You’re okay with this,” he accused.

Malfoy nodded once. “I’d rather not put my life into your hands once again, but I follow the Old Ways. I give myself willingly.”

Harry gulped, but nodded.

“Good to see you, Harry” Kingsley said genially when Harry popped through the Minister’s fireplace. Ron and Hermione had taken Teddy with them to the Burrow. He would never admit this, but watching Ron interact with a baby was one of Harry’s favourite things to do these days. He was both incredibly uncomfortable and unsure but also so gentle and happy whenever he was holding Teddy. Hermione seemed to love watching Ron with Teddy, too, and sometimes Harry felt as though he was intruding on a private moment.

“Morning, Kingsley,” Harry said brightly. “How are you?”

“Not too bad,” Kingsley smiled tiredly. “I was up all of last night questioning Greyback under _Veritaserum_. Now that that’s finished, we can start his trial.”

Harry shuddered, but nodded. “Good. The ministry cells are too good for that bastard.”

Kingsley raised his eyebrow but nodded. Harry had been pretty diplomatic and quiet about the death eater trials so far, only speaking in the Wizengamot if absolutely necessary. Apart from Narcissa and Draco Malfoy’s trials, and Severus Snapes’ post-humus pardoning. He had been quite vocal then.

“The trials will take place on June 2nd. It will be a full trial from the Wizengamot, so you’ll have to be there,” Kingsley said. Harry nodded. He was going to be there whether he was needed or not. There was no way Harry was raising Teddy in a world where Fenrir Greyback walked free.

“Kingsley,” Harry began, unsure of how much to tell him of his eventful weekend. Figuring that Kingsley was generally one of sense, he decided to stick to as close to the truth as possible. “Draco Malfoy showed up on my doorstep dying this Saturday.”

Kingsley stilled. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, he’d been attacked. Snape had given him a portkey to use to go to a safe place if ever he was in danger and too injured to apparate. He didn’t know I lived there,” Harry explained. “It made me realise that I have no idea how many people have access to my house.”

Kingsley frowned, nodding. “Yes, that does pose a few problems. It’ll probably be safest to remove the Fidelius charm entirely and create a new one.” At Harry’s look, Kingsley sighed. “I know you don’t like the Fidelius, Harry, but we can’t exactly have death eaters popping in and out of your house.”

“Former death eaters,” Harry corrected. Kingsley paused but nodded. Harry sighed, “The Dursley’s house wasn’t under Fidelius, and I was safe there. Dumbledore used a blood ward.”

Kingsley gasped. “A blood ward? That’s incredibly dark magic. Although, I suppose Dumbledore wouldn’t have resorted to such drastic measures unless absolutely necessary.”

Harry decided not to comment. Instead, he continued, “I’m not particularly fond of the idea of bleeding once a week to keep the wards strong, either. I was just wondering if there were any other wards you knew about for protection.”

Kingsley nodded. “I’ll think about it. I’m sure we can come up with something apart from the Fidelius in the long term. In the meantime, though, I really think you should reset it. If nothing else, just for my peace of mind.”

Harry sighed, but nodded, sensing a losing battle. Perhaps Hermione would have some ideas. “Fine. I’ll do it tonight.”

Kingsley nodded, pleased. “I’d like to discuss with you your plans for the upcoming year,” he said, moving on to business.

Harry sighed. “I have to admit, Kingsley, I haven’t had much of a chance to think about it.” He didn’t mention that he hadn’t thought he’d have a future, as those sorts of comments tended to make people upset.

“Ah yes, I can imagine caring for a baby has been quite a challenge. You’re so young, Harry. Are you sure you don’t want to put Teddy in someone else’s care? I’m sure we can find someone suitable,” Kingsley said lightly.

Harry’s nostrils flared angrily, but he tried to reign in his temper. “No offence, Minister, but I do not have much faith in the ministry to find a suitable home for a war orphan,” Harry said pointedly. “Besides, Teddy is a Black. He has no living family that weren’t death eaters. He’s my godson – Remus and Tonks made it clear that he was to be in my care, if they should pass.”

Kingsley nodded calmly. He never seemed particularly put off by Harry’s anger issues. Harry supposed that was because he’d been there to witness the episode in Dumbledore’s office in fifth year. “I can see you’re firmly against that plan. No matter. Your plans for the next year – I understand you indicated that you wanted to be an Auror?”

Harry frowned. “I don’t have my NEWTs.”

“I know, but, given the circumstances, Head Auror Robards has offered you, and Ron and Hermione, an invitation to join the training program without your NEWTs. It seems your practical experience outweighs anything you could learn in a classroom,” Kingsley said dryly. “Alternatively, Minerva is quite confident that Hogwarts will be able to reopen in September if you would like to attend for your seventh year. I believe that is what Hermione plans to do.”

Harry nodded. They had discussed it at length. Hermione was keen to finish her studies, but both Ron and Harry were unsure. He thought about it for a bit. “How many death eaters are unaccounted for?” he asked suddenly.

Kingsley looked surprised. “Six. Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Jugson, and the Lestrange brothers.”

Harry nodded. “I don’t want to join the training program. If Robards is okay with it, I’d like to find them with the rest of the aurors. After they’re caught and given a fair trial, I’ll decide what to do.”

Kingsley nodded grimly. “I had a feeling you would say that. I’ll arrange the meeting for the two of you.”

“Thank you,” Harry hesitated. “I’d appreciate it if this was not offered to Ron. He deserves every opportunity to join the training program – he more than deserves that – but I don’t want to put him into danger if he’s not properly trained.”

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “Done. But, Harry, consider that you are planning on entering the field without proper training.”

Harry smiled grimly. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Besides, that’s the plan. I reckon if I make myself vulnerable, they’ll want to attack.”

“You want to be bait?” Kingsley asked, frowning.

Harry shrugged. “It’ll be over with much more quickly. Besides, I’m sure Robards will teach me a few things before he lets me out into the field.”

Kingsley nodded slowly. “I can’t say I like this plan, Harry. But I have to admit it will be good publicity.”

Harry frowned. Since when had Kingsley be concerned with image? Figuring that he got his way, he decided not to push it. “Well, I have to get to Hogwarts to help with the rebuilding. Thank you for meeting with me, Kingsley.”

“Of course, Harry,” the minister said warmly, shaking his hand. “Before I let you go, you mentioned Draco Malfoy. Do you need me to send some aurors to ensure he doesn’t come back?”

Harry frowned. “That won’t be necessary. He doesn’t pose a threat.” At Kingsley’s look of incredulity, he added quickly, “He’s too injured.”

“I see,” Kingsley said, looking relieved. “Well, let us know if we can do anything for you, Harry.”

Harry was starting to get the impression that, no matter how decent the person was, the Minister for Magic would always be slightly corrupt. Perhaps it was the position itself – cursed like the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts.

A small, nagging voice that sounded vaguely like Hermione’s sounded in his mind. _Heavy is the head that wears the crown._ Harry shuddered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is bit of a filler chapter but I promise things will happen soon.  
> Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.

“Harry!” cried Mrs. Weasley as he stepped through the floo. Despite her red eyes and the dark shadows underneath them, she smiled broadly as she wrapped him in a hug. “Good to see you, darling.”

“You too, Molly,” Harry smiled genuinely. Something about being in the Burrow made him so happy, even if it was tinged with grief these days. “Hope Teddy was alright?”

Mrs. Weasley smiled. “A pleasure as always. Ron and Hermione are visiting George with him.” George hadn’t left his room since the battle, despite Mrs. Weasley’s attempts. “Are you hungry? I have to say you’re still looking a bit peaky.”

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m fine, Molly. Kreacher forces me to eat three times a day.”

“Well, it seems that the elf has some sense, after all,” Mrs. Weasley sniffed approvingly. She didn’t like Kreacher – anybody who had known him when Grimmauld Place was Headquarters didn’t understand why Harry kept him around – but she seemed to be warming to him.

Harry made his way up the stairs to George’s room. It felt strange even calling it George’s room – before, it had always been referred to as the Twins’. Expecting the familiar sight of a pale George sitting numbly on his bed while Ron and Hermione fleetingly attempted to engage him in conversation, he was surprised to see Ron and George talking animatedly when Harry opened the door.

“I was thinking it should be purple,” Ron was saying, grinning briefly at Harry in greeting.

George nodded, “Only if the box itself is orange.” Turning to Harry, he grinned. “Your majesty,” he bowed deeply.

Harry rolled his eyes. Fred and George had started bowing to him at the beginning of sixth year, despite his protests. It shocked him slightly to see George do it now, though, as he hadn’t seen the twin so much as smile at anybody since the battle.

Looking at Hermione questioningly, she explained. “Ron has decided, instead of pursuing his education, to join George at the shop,” she looked mildly disapproving, but Harry knew she was secretly pleased. Glancing at the brothers, Harry realised he hadn’t seen either of them look so happy and relaxed in years.

“You’ll be fantastic, Ron,” Harry said, grinning broadly as he scooped up Teddy from Hermione’s arms. “What do you think, Teddy?”

Teddy gurgled and suddenly his hair turned bright orange. Harry stared at the baby in shock. Teddy had changed the colour of his hair many times, mostly to indicate who he wanted to hold him, but he’d never done it as a response to a question before. He grinned at Hermione. “I think that means you have Teddy’s seal of approval, boys,” he smiled at them.

“That’s amazing, Harry! He’s really showing he can understand us. That’s very advanced for an infant of that age,” Hermione started talking. Turning thoughtful, she said, “You know, this could prove really interesting for paediatric studies…”

Harry hugged Teddy closer to his chest. “You are not turning my godson into a medical experiment, Hermione.”

She blushed fiercely. “Honestly, Harry. You know I’d never. I’m just remarking that its interesting.”

Harry grinned at Ron. “Perhaps you two could come up with a baby range.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” George said thoughtfully. “The wizarding world hasn’t really got any commercial baby products – most people just use the home recipes, or muggle stuff. I’d bet there’s a real market for it.” He looked at Ron, smiling slightly.

Hermione stood up from the bed and unruffled her clothes. “Alright, boys, we’d better be off. You know how McGonagall gets.” Looking at George hopefully, she added, “Do you want to come to?”

George’s smile froze on his face. “No, thank you,” he said quietly.

Harry nodded, clapping George on the back. “No worries, mate. Besides, you’re needed here to come up with a baby range of Wheezes.” George allowed a small smile at that.

As they were making their way done the stairs, Ron turned to Hermione and asked, “You don’t really mind that I’m not going back to Hogwarts with you, do you ‘mione?”

Hermione grinned. “’Course not. I’ve not seen you that excited since the Canons drew with the Caerphilly Catapults.” Ron and Harry turned to look at her blankly. “Honestly, boys, I do listen, you know.”

Ron grabbed her suddenly and kissed her firmly. Harry turned his gaze to Teddy as he strolled off to the kitchen, leaving his two friends to enjoy their moment.

“Molly, you should hear what Teddy did,” Harry told Mrs. Weasley excitedly.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, “Just you wait until he says he first words.” She looked over at Harry as he put a wraparound sling on one-handed. “I have to admit, I was not thrilled when you decided to parent at such a young age. But it suits you. I can see how much you love him.”

“I reckon it’s not the first time Harry’s had to do something he was too young for,” a shy voice attempted to drawl from behind them.

Mrs. Weasley gasped and spun around, “George!”

“Hey, mum,” George said quietly, wrapping her in a hug. Harry was thrilled. The war had broken so many hearts, and destroyed so much, but they were slowly healing.

Calling goodbye to the members of the burrow, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Teddy stepped through the fireplace, calling for Harry’s first ever home.

“Hogwarts.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is still a bit expositiony - sorry! Hopefully it's still interesting. The bonding will be next chapter. :)

The trio - plus Teddy – arrived in the Head’s office. McGonagall was waiting for them and nodded pleasantly when they arrived. “Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter,” she smiled at them, glancing at the tuft of blue hair smushed against Harry’s chest. “Mr. Lupin.”

Harry smiled at her. McGonagall had never struck him as the maternal type, but the soft smile on her face made him reconsider. She had always cared deeply for her students, Harry supposed. “Good to see you, Professor. How are the restorations coming along?”

McGonagall gestured for them to follow. “Quite well, Mr. Potter. I hardly think you need to call me Professor anymore. You too, Mr. Weasley.”

Harry’s cheeks went red, mildly concerned. He didn’t want McGonagall to be disappointed in him. “Kingsley told you then?”

“Of course. I’m pleased to hear that Ms. Granger is returning. I have to admit, I’m hardly surprised at any of your decisions, though,” McGonagall said wryly. “I thought I should mention that if you would like to take your NEWTs, you can still sit the examinations with the other seventh and eighth years in June next year if you still wish.”

Harry perked up. The Hermione-like voice in his mind really didn’t like the idea of leaving his education unfinished. On his left, Ron shuddered.

Watching Ron’s reaction, McGonagall’s lips quirked, although she still managed to hide her smile. “Well, perhaps I shall leave that up to you to decide.”

As they walked through the castle, Harry could see the rebuilding team had been working tirelessly. There were still some scorch marks on the walls from misfired spells, and a few missing bricks here and there, but the upper levels almost looked the same as they had in his first year.

“It’s much better than last week,” Harry observed.

McGonagall nodded, looking pleased. “I’m confident we shall be ready to reopen by September 1st. I will be sending out the letters later this week.”

Hermione bounced excitedly but managed to control herself. Harry and Ron shared a look. “What do you need us to do?” Ron asked, ready to get to business.

McGonagall smiled at his readiness. “I need you to help with the wards. I will not have Hogwarts vulnerable ever again.” She turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, I’m sorry to say this but there are quite a few reporters camped at the gate. If you wish to work inside that is fine.”

Harry glanced down at Teddy. He didn’t really want him to be exposed to the attention. Looking up at Hermione, however, he saw her shake her head. She was right. He was going to have to face them eventually. Rolling back his shoulders he sighed, “It’s fine. They won’t leave you alone unless they see me. I’ll cast a silencing bubble around Teddy.”

McGonagall nodded approvingly. “I really need your magical strength on the wards at the gate, but I didn’t want to pressure you.”

Harry smiled. Rolling up his sleeves, he steeled himself before walking out the large oak doors at the front entrance.

Suddenly, there were gasps and shouts and cameras flashing. Harry looked grimly at Hermione and Ron. They smiled sympathetically. Quickly casting a silencing bubble charm around Teddy, he marched with purpose to the front gate, in front of which the reporters were gathered.

“Mr. Potter, how does it feel to be the saviour?” someone called. “Who are you dating, Harry?” another asked. “Will Hogwarts be ready by September?” “Why did you refuse the role of the Minister of Magic?”

The shouts died down when Harry held up his hand. “I will not be answering any questions today. If you would like Hogwarts to be ready to open by September, I recommend you move backwards so I can work. Even better, you could help with the rebuilding effort,” he said firmly.

Without waiting for them to react, Harry drew his wand at began working on the wards. He didn’t have much knowledge of this kind of technical magic, but Hermione had done a lot of research and explained it in detail to him.

“ _Fianto Duri,_ ” he began quietly. “ _Protego Maxima._ ” Teddy stirred on his chest. Since Harry had first met him, he’d been reacting very strongly to magic. Harry couldn’t blame him – there was nothing quite like the feeling of magic in the air when a powerful charm was cast.

“ _Fianto Duri, Protego Maxima,”_ he continued casting, a visible shield starting to form in front of the gate. Walking up to him, Hermione and Ron took over, chanting the protective spells while Harry reached out to the wards with his magic to strengthen them.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated, and soon was able to see the threads of magic that were delicately laced around the school. Reaching out further, he could see there were tiny gaps between some of the links. “ _Fianto Duri, Protego Maxima,”_ he cast, concentrating specifically on one of the missing links. Suddenly, the thread was whole, and became much bigger and stronger. Harry smiled, pleased. He continued to cast, slowly solidifying and connecting the threads of magic.

About an hour later, Teddy started to cry with boredom. Harry hadn’t realised how long he’d been standing there. He held his concentration just in case the threads snapped as soon as he let go, but after a few tentative steps back they remained intact. With relief, he turned to Hermione and Ron.

“I need to feed Teddy,” he said. “The wards need a lot more work, though.”

Hermione nodded as they turned back to the castle. “Could you see the magic?” she asked excitedly.

“Yeah, it was weird,” Harry said. “It was like lots of little threads knitted together. But there are a lot of stitches missing.”

“Fascinating,” Hermione muttered. Harry could see the cogs turning in her mind.

Ron grinned at him. “You handled those reporters well, mate.”

“Really?” Harry asked, surprised. “I kind of got angry at them.”

“Nah, mate, you were perfect. Put those bastards in their place. A lot of them volunteered to help after that.”

Harry blinked, but smiled. “Great. We need all the help we can get.”

“Still, I don’t envy you, mate,” Ron said. Harry couldn’t help his look of disbelief. “Oi, don’t give me that face – I don’t. Not since sixth year. Anyway, I reckon only a mental person would willingly want to experience that day after the battle.”

The day after the battle had been very bizarre. Neither Harry, Hermione or Ron had slept in over 48 hours by that point – unless one counted the 45 minutes in which Harry had been dead. Instead of grieving with his family for the loss of his brother, Ron had been forced to answer about a thousand questions along with Harry and Hermione from millions of reporters. Deciding to keep quiet about the horcruxes, too, didn’t help their case, as it meant they couldn’t answer many questions about what they were doing the year before. Hermione had spun a tale about working against Voldemort’s dark magic but didn’t go into much detail. The reporters were not best pleased, and the questioning became more interrogative. Ron had eventually given up hiding his frustration and politely told them all where to shove it. Hermione had pretended to be disappointed, but Ron and Harry both knew that deep down she was just as pleased as them when the reporters finally stopped their incessant questioning.

Agreeing to return later that week to finish the wards with McGonagall, the trio-plus-Teddy stepped through the fireplace to Grimmauld Place.

The kitchen at Grimmauld Place looked like a bomb had gone off in it. Piles of papers were strewn everywhere, and, in the same seat in which Harry had left him in, Malfoy was scribbling furiously with a quill, ink splattered up and down his arms.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, confused.

Malfoy turned around, his cheeks pink with exertion and long hair slipping out of its bun. “Potter, Granger, Weasley,” he nodded at them aristocratically, but the affect was kind of ruined by his general demeanour.

Hermione smiled and poured herself a cup of tea. “See what I mean, Malfoy?”

Ron looked as lost as Harry. “What are you two on about?”

“Granger very kindly had Kreacher retrieve Potter’s family books for me,” Malfoy drawled, accepting a cup of tea from Hermione with a nod of thanks.

“Books?” Ron asked, confused.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Yes, books plural. Potter has somehow inherited half of the titles of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

Harry looked at them blankly. Even Ron seemed to know what was going on now. “Can someone explain please?” he asked helplessly.

Hermione took pity on him. “A family book is all of the written records pertaining to a wizarding family. You really should have been given the Potter and Black ones when you turned seventeen, but we were kind of busy.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, yes, I know I got them like a month ago. But what about it is making Malfoy so stressed?”

Malfoy gaped at him. “Potter, you are not just the head of the Black and Potter houses. Since you killed the Dark Lord, you’ve also acquired the titles of Lord Gaunt and, from Granger’s research, Lord Peverell.”

“Yeah, I know - Hermione told me,” Harry said. He didn’t care much about titles, although he supposed Malfoy probably did. “It doesn’t really matter though, does it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Malfoy mumbled numbly. “Potter, they’re not just titles, you know.”

Harry blinked. “They’re not?”

Even Ron looked at him with incredulity. “Honestly, mate. I had no idea you were this clueless.”

Harry felt mildly defensive. “No one took the time to explain it to me.” He glanced at the others at the table, and took his seat, feeling they were going to be here a while. “Since it’s so important, someone take the time now,” he demanded.

Malfoy rolled his eyes but complied. “As Lord of a House, you are considered the Head of it. It’s not just a fancy title. You are expected to provide protection to all of the members of that household. That’s why your magic has gotten so powerful recently. The magic recognises you as the Head of these Houses and blesses you with enough power to protect the members of your House. That, and the fact that you are the Master of the Hallows.”

Harry frowned. “But no one is in my houses. Everyone’s dead. Apart from Teddy, I suppose.”

Malfoy shook his head. “Just because there are no wizards or witches with the last names of Potter, Black, Peverell or Gaunt walking around, doesn’t mean there are now members of the houses. Anybody connected paternally to a family line, unless they are the heir or Head of another house, is under your protection. My mother, for example, is a member the Black house.”

Harry nodded, understanding (kind of). “Right. Okay, so who else is in my house?”

Malfoy fished for a list that he had written under a stack of paper. Handing it to Harry, he quirked his lips when Harry gasped in shock.

“There are six names here!” Harry said, excitedly.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “The Malfoy family has over fifty members.”

Hermione frowned and said quietly, “Harry’s never had any family before.”

Harry pretended to ignore them, not seriously bothered, and far too excited about the list, but smiled when Ron interjected with a protective, “Hey, he’s got us.”

“Speaking of, Ron, there’s a Weasley on this list,” Harry said, attempting to stop them from discussing just how depressing his family situation was. “Cedrella Weasley.”

Ron wrinkled his nose. “My grandmother. She’s alright but we don’t see her that often – her and mum don’t get along that well. And she smells like cat food.”

“Wait, if she’s your grandmother, does that mean we’re related?” Harry said, feeling slightly disgusted.

Malfoy rolled his, catching onto his way of thinking. “No. Well, yes, but incredibly far back. A Potter-Weasley match hasn’t occurred in over four centuries. Cedrella was née Black. Your relationship with Weaslette is safe.”

Harry swallowed, relieved. “Good. Ginny and I aren’t together anymore, but it would still be weird.” Ron nodded with fervour. Harry changed the subject quickly. “There’s also Callidora Longbottom.”

“That’s Neville’s great-grandmother,” Hermione told him. “I think technically Augusta would be in the family too, but she’s Head of the house of Longbottom, so her connection to your family is moot.”

Malfoy nodded. “There’s also Iola Hitchens, whose an incredible old, yet formidable witch. She’s 146, but when the Death Eaters tried to attack her family last year, she sent four back without their tongues.”

Harry gulped. “Why did they attack her?”

“She’s a Black, or at least she was, but she married a muggle. For my aunt, that was worse than marrying a muggle-born or a blood-traitor,” Malfoy explained. No one needed reminding who his aunt was. “Pity she didn’t get Bella’s tongue too.”

Harry blinked in surprise at Malfoy’s clear hatred of Bellatrix but decided not to say anything. It seemed Hermione and Ron decided the same thing.

Malfoy coughed awkwardly. “Anyway, there’s also Marjory Boot, Terry’s mother. I’ve never met her, but her son is quite sensible. He fought for your side.”

“Cool,” Harry said. “Do you think they would meet with me?”

“I should think so, you are their Lord,” Malfoy scoffed. “You might not have been raised in the Old Ways, but they were. I would recommend inviting them to a Pledge.”

“What’s a Pledge?” Harry asked.

Malfoy frowned. “I forget how clueless you are. This is going to be harder than I thought. A pledge is a ceremonial meeting of the House. They formally reconfirm their allegiance to you and recognise you as Lord. In exchange, you’d traditionally ask what you can do for them. Normally, there’d be a discussion of their allowances, but since Callidora Cedrella and Marjory are both married, they won’t be asking for money, and Iola lives in the muggle world, so she shouldn’t need anything either.” He paused. “My mother will probably not ask you for anything.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Speak plainly, Malfoy.”

Malfoy sighed. “My family lost most of our assets. My mother and I are living off the Lovegood’s.”

Harry was taken aback. “Luna and Xenophilius? But- “Harry trailed off. He didn’t want to mention the whole imprisoning of Luna thing.

“Luna and I became quite close while she was at the Manor. I brought her food and such. I was looking for a way to get her out. She was going to testify at my trial, but didn’t need to,” Malfoy said quietly, nodding at Harry. He cleared his throat. “Regardless, she is part of my House. Xenophilius is providing us an allowance until we get on our feet.”

Harry frowned. He’d seen the Lovegood’s house and didn’t imagine they had much to share. “I will provide Narcissa with an allowance. And I’ll pay you for your work.”

“You can’t do that,” Malfoy pointed out. “I’m repaying a debt.”

Harry jutted out his chin. “Fine, I’ll give Narcissa double. I have more than enough, and you don’t. Besides, aren’t you the Lord of the Malfoy House.”

Malfoy nodded, heat rising to his cheeks. “Yes.”

“Well, how are you supposed to provide for the members of your house if you aren’t able to support yourself?” Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged. “At the next meeting of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, I imagine the families will change their allegiance to another House. Probably to yours.”

Harry frowned. He didn’t know if he just wanted people joining his family for his money, and Malfoy looked seriously dejected. “Well, I’ll end up paying for them either way. You may as well keep being the Head of your House. I don’t want to be in charge of that many people.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “When are you going to accept that you’re already in charge of all of the Wizarding World.”

“Never,” Harry said stubbornly.

Malfoy quirked his lips. He wrestled with himself for a bit, before coming to a decision. “Then I gratefully accept your offer, Lord Potter,” he said solemnly. “I have been preparing for my role as Lord for my whole life. I don’t want to let my family down now.”

“You’re welcome, Lord Malfoy,” Harry smiled. “Now, onto other business,” he said, folding the sheet of paper with his new family’s names carefully before putting it in his pocket.

Malfoy sighed, “Well, a representative from Gringotts will be coming tomorrow to go over your accounts with the both of us. You’ll receive your family rings as well. You really should have gotten your Potter ring as soon as your parents died. I find myself disagreeing with Dumbledore’s motives post-mortem.”

“Me too,” Harry said quietly. He’d have loved to have a family growing up. He supposed these people wouldn’t have been available to him, as they were all connected through the Black line, but still.

“You’ll probably find that you have several estates,” Malfoy continued. Harry looked up in surprise. “That’ll mean several house-elves, too. They’re a big responsibility…” Malfoy continued. “You’ll need a fitting with Malkin’s – you simply can’t wear _that_ to a Pledge,” he said, looking up and down at Harry’s jeans and t-shirt disparagingly. “I can’t quite believe you wore that to meet the Minister,” he sniffed. “I think you should host a ball for Midsomer, to show people you intend to respect the old ways.”

Hermione frowned. “I think that’s be a great idea, Malfoy, but it’s only a month until the 20th. Harry has no idea how to attend a ball, let alone host one.”

Malfoy rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. “Then we’ll have to get started.” He stood abruptly. “Come with me, Potter,” he drawled. “It’s time for a bonding.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a long one. Its a bit of a fluffy filler towards the end, but I think Harry's friends are awesome and deserve a lot of attention!

Harry followed Malfoy into Grimmauld Place’s formal sitting room. He hadn’t spent much time in it since they’d moved in, finding the dark green curtains blocking the windows and the smell of rising damp a bit too gloomy for him.

Malfoy sniffed, looking appalled. “Honestly, Potter. How do you live like this?” Retrieving his wand from the sleeve of his robe, he flourished it rather dramatically. Suddenly, the curtains parted, dust flew up from the rug and the room started to smell faintly of jasmine. At Harry’s look of amazement, Malfoy sighed. “I’ll teach you the household charms later.”

Harry smiled. It was definitely strange spending this much time with his former school nemesis, but he was regrettably starting to enjoy the blond’s dry wit, sarcasm and sass. Hermione was too easily offended to properly banter with, and although Ron and he exchanged brotherly ribbing occasionally, it was nothing compared to Malfoy’s insults. Surprisingly, Harry found the change refreshing.

Malfoy cleared his throat, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. “Right. When I’m done speaking, you’ll need to respond very carefully with ‘Lord Malfoy, I accept your offer of service to repay your three life debts. You may teach me the ways of the Old. So, mote it be.’ You have to be really specific. Otherwise, we could accidentally end up married or something horrible like that.”

Harry gulped. “Okay.”

Malfoy positioned Harry so that he was seated in one of the armchairs. “Back straight. You’re a Lord, Potter, act like one,” he admonished.

Harry sat straight in his chair, feeling a bit ridiculous. Malfoy nodded his approval and took a step backward. Looking a bit embarrassed, he shrugged and knelt on one knee before Harry. Harry was so startled that he barely heard Malfoy speak.

“Lord Potter, I, Lord Malfoy, ask that you forgive me of my life debts to you. I willingly give myself for your service,” he said calmly. “On behalf of the House of Malfoy, I also extend my allegiance to the houses of Black, Gaunt, Peverell and Potter. So, mote it be.” Even when swearing his allegiance, Malfoy was able to retain his dignity.

Harry didn’t have the same luck. “Er… Lord Malfoy, I accept your offer of service to repay your three life debts. You may teach me the ways of the Old. So, mote it be,” Harry said in a rush, barely pausing at the end of his sentences.

Malfoy rolled his eyes but stood up. “Well, it was hardly graceful, but it worked. Thanks, Potter,” he said, shaking Harry’s hand firmly.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, but really thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Letting go of Malfoy’s hand, he wiped his palm on his jeans awkwardly.

Malfoy stepped back. “Alright, Potter, I’d best be off. Mother will be wondering where I am, anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry blinked. “Oh, alright then.” Remembering his conversation with Kingsley, he smacked his forehead. “Actually, I have to recast the protective wards around the house tonight. Can I floo to Malfoy Manor to bring you back?”

Malfoy frowned. “I no longer live at the Manor. It was rather empty after all of our things were taken away. Besides, there were too many bad memories. Mother and I are living in a safe house.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Erm, well, I could meet you in muggle London? I know you probably don’t like going there, or whatever, but I really can’t go out in wizarding London anymore.”

“Yes, I think I might be familiar with the dangers of the public when yours is a household name,” Draco said wryly. Harry realised he probably didn’t want to go out in wizarding London either, after what had happened on Friday. “I shall meet you outside Angel station.”

Harry blinked, finding Malfoy using muggle words to be exceedingly strange, but agreed readily. “See you tomorrow, Malfoy.”

A few hours later, Harry was attempting to bathe his godson. Teddy cried every time he got his hair wet, but Harry had discovered a spell in one of Mrs. Weasley’s old books that died babies instantly. Bracing himself for the tears, he scooped up a bit of water to dribble onto the shock of bright blue hair but faltered when he heard Kreacher’s voice.

“Can Kreacher assist Master?” the elderly elf asked. He had become much more amenable in the past year, but he’d never offered outright to help Harry with something before.

Harry blinked. “Erm… Are you any good at washing babies?”

Kreacher nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes, Master Harry. Kreacher is taking care of Master Regulus and Master Sirius when they is babies,” he croaked.

Harry hesitated. “No offence, Kreacher, but why do you want to help me?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound impolite.

“Young Master Malfoy is talking to me. Is telling me that Master is trying to bring back the Old Ways. Is telling me that Master is Lord Black and that I should be treating Master with more respect, he is,” Kreacher explained. “Master Malfoy is also saying that Mudblood Mistress is not trying to take me away from Master. Just is wanting to make sure I is doing what I is wanting. I is not understanding this, but I is appreciative.”

Harry was shocked. That was the most words Kreacher had ever uttered to him ever, and he only mentioned a slur once. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “thank you, Kreacher. I would appreciate the help. Please do not say ‘mudblood’ again, though.”

Kreacher started to twist his ears. Harry groaned, remembering Dobby in second year. “No! Kreacher you are never to hurt yourself,” Harry commanded firmly.

Kreacher blinked. “Yes Master.”

Together, they managed to wash Teddy. Kreacher was surprisingly gentle with him, and even soothed him by bouncing him when the baby started to cry. He certainly had a lot of experience. Harry smirked at the thought of Sirius as a baby, imagining a young Gryffindor in a house of Slytherins. He wondered what it would be like for him if he’d followed the Sorting Hat’s advice and became a Slytherin. Would he have felt the same as Sirius? Or would he have been better suited to the Slytherin lifestyle? He couldn’t help but wonder if he and Malfoy would have been friends, or if their school rivalry would have persisted even if they were in the same house.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” Harry said, gathering the bundle of towels that was his godson once they were finished. “Could you get me a bottle, please?”

Kreacher nodded enthusiastically and popped away to fix it up. Harry walked slowly to the nursery, vaguely humming the tune of a lullaby that he had been forced to sing in his primary school choir. 

By the time Kreacher arrived with the bottle, Teddy was half asleep again. Quickly feeding him and burping him, Harry managed to place him in his crib without disturbing him too much. He gazed at the sleeping infant for a while, not wishing to leave the confines of the room just yet. Everything outside the little nursery was still reeling from the war and learning the politics of blood purity and the Old Ways was leaving Harry’s head spinning.

Eventually, Kreacher reappeared, telling Harry quietly that it was time for dinner. It seemed to be a quiet agreement between Hermione and the elf. Kreacher would remind Harry to eat at least three times a day. Harry didn’t really get hungry – he supposed it was a leftover survival instinct from his childhood. If he didn’t notice the hunger, he wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t being allowed to eat as much as Dudley.

Casting a quick monitoring charm over the crib, Harry made his way down to the kitchen.

“Harry!” Hermione greeted him. She was still attempting to teach Ron piano, but privately Harry thought that Ron was being bad at purpose so she would spend more time with her nose out of a book. “How did everything go with Malfoy?”

Harry nodded, taking his usual place at the head of the table. Ron took his place to his right, Hermione to his left. “Yeah it was weird but fine. By the way, I have to recast the Fidelius. Will one of you be my secret keeper?”

Hermione frowned. “I thought you hated the Fidelius charm?”

Harry sighed. “I do, but I don’t know of any other protective charms. Kingsley was worried. I have to agree with him. It feels weird to say, but I trust Malfoy. I just don’t know how many more people Snape told about this place. I don’t mind one death eater popping up on my doorstep, but I’d rather not have any more surprises. Especially with Teddy living here.” He started cutting up his potatoes but made no move to eat them. “I’ve told Kingsley that I won’t do it long-term. He said he’d research some other options, but…” he trailed off, looking hopefully at Hermione.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll look into it. I won’t be your secret keeper, though,” she said firmly. Hermione would always stay true to her morals.

Ron sighed. “I’ll do it. But I don’t want it to be forever,” he grumbled.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry smiled grimly. “I’ll cast it after dinner. Hermione, will you take Teddy to the Burrow for a bit? He just had a bath so hopefully he’ll be down for a few hours.”

Hermione nodded. “I can ask George what he thinks of your idea, Ron.”

“What idea?” Harry asked curiously, finally taking a bite of his food when Hermione kept kicking him under the table.

Ron blushed. “Well, I saw in the Prophet that Zonkos is closing. I sent an inquiry on the off chance he’d be willing to sell. Turns out he is. I thought maybe George and I could expand Wheezes.” He glanced at Hermione. “Also, I wouldn’t mind living in Hogsmeade if Hermione was back at school.”

Hermione nodded. “The idea of not sharing a bed was making me a bit queasy,” she admitted. At Harry’s look she blushed. “Not like that! I just mean, I don’t get the nightmares that bad when Ron’s next to me.”

Harry raised an eyebrow when Ron agreed. “Maybe I need to find someone to share a bed with,” he said slyly. “Although, they’d probably rather not wake up every four hours to feed Teddy.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You could have anybody in the wizarding world in a heartbeat if you wanted. They’d put up with anything you threw at them.”

Harry scowled. “Yeah, but they also might try to dose me with a love potion, so maybe not.”

Hermione sighed in sympathy. “Don’t worry, Harry. Teddy will be sleeping through the night soon, and everyone will calm down eventually. You’ll be able to have a love life again soon.”

Harry decided to change the subject. “Kingsley spoke to me today. Robards is offering us all a spot in the training squad.”

Hermione scrunched her nose up. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough running into danger to last a lifetime.”

Ron hesitated, but eventually said, “I don’t want to do it either. I’m really excited about working with George.” He looked at Hermione, “You don’t mind, do you? I mean, being an Auror is a proper job. Not like working in a shop.”

“Ron, I want you to be happy. You do whatever you want to do. I think you’ll be a fantastic businessman,” she said firmly.

“Besides Ron, Hermione will be making enough money for the both of you as Minister or something,” Harry teased.

Ron smiled proudly. “Of course, she will. And I’ll be the best First Man.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That’s America, Ron. We just call the Minister’s spouse ‘Mr. or Mrs.’”

Ron pouted. “But when you’re Minister for Magic you can change that. Make me Your Excellency or something.”

“Let’s just cross that bridge when we get to it,” Hermione laughed. “What about you, Harry? Are you going to take up Robards’ offer?”

Harry sighed, knowing she wouldn’t like his answer. “Until the last death eaters have been caught, yes. I’ll decide what to do after that.”

Hermione frowned. “You’ll just be in the training team, right?”

Harry made a noise that could be considered affirmative, stuffing his face with some chicken, hoping she wouldn’t press him for more information. Thankfully, she didn’t, although she looked at him suspiciously.

Hermione made Harry and Ron go through the removal and creation of a Fidelius five times before she was confident enough to leave them to do it. “Remember, you must say _‘manetes fidelis’_ seven times before Harry finishes the spell,” she said to Ron as she kissed him goodbye.

“Honestly, you’d think I’d never cast an incredibly complicated, ancient, powerful protective charm before,” he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Good luck,” she said, before stepping into the green flames of Harry’s fireplace.

Stepping outside Grimmauld Place, they checked for any nearby muggles or wizarding witnesses. Seeing it was clear, Ron kept his gaze on the street, wand at the ready, while Harry turned to face the house.

Reaching out for the magic like he had at Hogwarts earlier today, he drew a circle in the air with his wand. “ _Fidem revelare,”_ Harry cast to reveal the existing wards. The magic surrounding the Black family home lived up to its name, appearing like a large shadow in Harry’s mind. Notably, there were a lot of bright parts to, which Harry assumed were the holes in the protective shield. Pricking his thumb with a needle, Harry allowed seven drops of blood to land on the doorstep. “ _Aufer fidem,”_ he cast, watching the shadow flicker before dissipating.

Turning to Ron, he smiled grimly. “I’ve removed it. Let’s do this quickly.”

With Ron’s nod, they both used their wands to slice their hands open. Grasping each other’s palm tightly, Harry drew another circle with his wand and cast, “ _Custodi ut Fidem._ ” Slowly a long thread of magic drew out of the wand, wrapping around their hands.

Ron closed his eyes and muttered, “M _anetes fidelis,_ m _anetes fidelis,_ m _anetes fidelis,_ m _anetes fidelis,_ m _anetes fidelis,_ m _anetes fidelis,_ m _anetes fidelis,”_ keeping count on his other hand.

Harry drew another circle. “ _Custodi ut Fidem. Sic fiat semper.”_

They released each other’s hands from their grasp. Harry poured some dittany on both of them. “I’d really rather not do that again,” Ron said grimly.

Harry shuddered, thinking of his parents. “Yeah, me too.”

They made their way back inside the house to find Kreacher at the front door, looking relieved. “Master is keeping Black house safe,” he croaked. “Kreacher is feeling the wards.”

Harry sighed with relief. “It worked then?”

Kreacher nodded. “House being safe now, Master.”

Harry nodded. He wondered how unsafe the house had been before, and, not for the first time, wondered if he’d been right to bring Teddy here.

Together, Ron and Harry floo’d to the Burrow.

“Did it work?” Hermione jumped on them as soon as they arrived.

Ron smirked. “’Course it did. I reckon I’m a pretty good ward-caster.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I cast it, you git.” He pulled out a piece of parchment from his robe. “Here, Hermione.”

Hermione read the note, and, knowing the address, passed it back to Harry. “You’d better show it to Teddy, too. I know he can’t read, but the magic will work the same if he holds the piece of paper and we bring him with us when we go back.”

Harry did so, placing Teddy’s tiny fingers around the piece of paper. He hadn’t even thought about the fact babies couldn’t read. “I’m just going to get your family to read it, Ron. Do you two mind watching him?” Harry asked, glancing at his best friend who was already cooing at Teddy.

He made his way from the living room to the kitchen. “Hello, Molly, Arthur,” he said as he walked in. Mrs. Weasley was reading a magazine and Mr. Weasley was taking apart what appeared to be an old rubix cube, while the dishes were washing up in the sink on their own accord. “Harry,” Mr. Weasley said pleasantly. “I trust it went well?”

Harry nodded, passing him the piece of paper. After reading it, Mr. Weasley passed it to his wife. “Hermione sent a letter to Bill about possible other wards for the long term,” the older wizard said.

“That’s a brilliant idea! I bet he’ll come up with something,” Harry said hopefully. Mrs. Weasley passed the address back to him. “Are any of the others here?” he asked.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Ginny’s upstairs in her room, and, from the noises, I think George is inventing in the attic,” she smiled at Harry with watering eyes. George was clearly having a good day if his spirits were still as high as they were that morning.

Making his way upstairs, he knocked on Ginny’s door. After no response, he pushed it open slowly, calling her name.

He smiled. Ginny had some headphones plugged in to a wizard’s radio and was bouncing a quaffle against the ceiling. “Merlin, Harry, you almost gave me a heart attack,” she cried when she noticed him.

Harry grinned, plopping down next to her, and chucking her the quaffle. “Sorry,” he said, completely unapologetically. “How’s training going?”

Ginny shrugged. “Alright. It’s a shame I don’t have you all here to fly with. I need all the practice I can get – Puddlemere is recruiting when we get back to school and Minnie thinks I’m really in with a shot.”

“Ron and I will come around next week,” he promised. “Of course you have a shot, you’re the best damn chaser at Hogwarts.”

Ginny grinned. “I know,” she said, poking her tongue out at him. “Did you manage the ward alright?”

Harry nodded, handing her the sheet of paper. “Come around whenever you like. Fair warning: Malfoy might be there.”

Ginny sniffed in disdain. “Why on earth would he be there?”

“He’s repaying his life debts by teaching me the Old Ways,” Harry sighed. “I don’t even know how it happened, but it turns out Malfoy and Hermione make quite the pair when it comes to big plans.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ginny commented. “He was always second to Hermione in class,” she added thoughtfully. “How’s Ron handling it?”

Harry shrugged. “Okay; I think his starting to warm up to him. I am too. He’s actually not that bad a bloke when he’s not …”

“Doing Nazi shit,” Ginny added helpfully.

Harry chuckled. “He’s alright.”

Ginny grinned cheekily at him. “Plus, he’s really fit.”

Harry paused. Ginny was the only person who he had ever told that he had had feelings for both boys and girls. In return, Harry was the first person that knew Ginny felt the same way. He blushed a little but said quietly. “Yeah, reckon he is.”

Ginny giggled and soon they were talking just as they had years before. Harry loved her, he really did, but they both knew they weren’t right for each other. They talked about everything; from quidditch to school to the war to boys and girls they found attractive. At some point, Ginny pulled out a flask of firewhiskey and they started singing along to Celestina Warbeck at the top of their lungs. Ginny was just opening a bottle of black nail polish to do Harry’s nails when George walked in.

“Oh, little sister, what has the saviour got you up to now,” he said in a fake admonishing way. With a warning glance at Ginny to hold the bottle of polish out of the way, he leaped onto the middle of the bed. “So, Mr. Potter, I have made something for you,” he said, helping himself to some of Ginny’s firewhiskey.

“Oh?” Harry asked, watching as Ginny painted his little finger. “Is it a baby product?”

“Indeed, it is,” George grinned, dropping a small object into Harry’s palm.

Harry stared at it blankly. “It’s a dummy.”

George gasped. “You mock me, oh King of Wizarding Britain!” he cried. “Have you ever known me to make a product that was that simple? Watch this,” he said proudly, shoving it into Harry’s mouth.

Harry nearly choked in surprise. It tasted faintly familiar.

“It’s laced with chamomile and a tiny amount of calming draught. Also, if you tap it lightly with your wand,” George explained, demonstrating with a flourish, “it shines a different colour depending on what the baby needs. For example, you need your nappy changed.”

Harry rolled his eyes and smacked him on the head, taking the dummy out. “That is really cool, George. That’d be so useful. Do you take requests?”

“Anything for you, oh saviour,” George bowed sarcastically.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Teddy’s got cholic and when he starts crying, nothing will make him stop.”

George grinned and leapt up from the bed after taking another swig of firewhiskey. “I shall begin at once!”

“Wait, read this first,” Harry called, throwing the piece of paper at him. George bent over to pick it up and then through it back at Harry.

“Burn it!” George called cheerfully as he walked out of the room.

Ginny blew a raspberry. “That boy is a tornado,” she sighed, looking at Harry’s nails which were now a bit splodgy.

Harry shrugged, looking at them. “I like them. Anyway, I’d best be off. I’m worried that if I leave Ron alone with Teddy too long, he’ll run away and secretly adopt him.”

With a kiss on the cheek, Harry left Ginny’s room feeling lighter than he had in a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, Harry didn't snap the Elder Wand at the end of the battle.  
> Thank you for all the lovely comments!

Spring was his favourite time of year, Harry decided as he pushed Teddy’s pram leisurely past Claremont Square Garden and down Pentonville Road. Wondering if there were any consequences of mixing caffeine with Pepper Up, Harry popped into a café and ordered a large double black for himself, and, after a moment’s hesitation, a milky tea with a teaspoon of honey for Malfoy – the way the blond had made it yesterday.

Balancing the cardboard drinks holder on the bar of the pram with one hand, Harry windlessly cast a stasis charm over the drinks so that they wouldn’t get cold. As he walked, he appreciated being out and about without too many strange looks. There were still a few – after all, a seventeen-year-old boy with a pram wasn’t a very common sight in the streets of Pentonville – but Harry revelled in his relative anonymity.

As Harry turned onto Islington High Street, he couldn’t help but gasp when he spotted Malfoy walking from the station. In all the seven years Harry had known him, he couldn’t recall a single time Malfoy had worn muggle clothing. Yet, here he was, strolling towards Harry with the same confidence he’d always had, but dressed in black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt and a khaki and white plaid over shirt, long hair in a messy bun.

Schooling his expression into one less of shock and one (hopefully) more cool and nonchalant, Harry greeted Malfoy with a nod, handing over his tea.

Malfoy blinked, accepting it hesitantly. “Oh. Um. Thanks,” he said in mild shock.

Harry shrugged. “Do you know if you can drink caffeine if you’ve had Pepper Up?” he asked suddenly, remembering Malfoy’s talent for potions.

“Depends on how much Pepper Up you drank,” Malfoy said, frowning. “You don’t want to get too reliant on it, Potter. It’s addictive.”

Harry rolled his shoulders, thinking that Malfoy probably wouldn’t like to hear that he downed two whole bottles ten minutes earlier. Instead he took a sip of his coffee, and said wryly, “I do have a two-month old.”

Malfoy smirked. “My cousin keeping you up at night then, Potter?”

“More than Voldemort ever did,” Harry grumbled. Not wanting to dwell on those unpleasant thoughts, he pulled out the small piece of parchment that had his address on it. “Read this,” he said, allowing Malfoy’s eyes to scan it before pulling out his muggle lighter and setting it on fire.

Malfoy looked amused. “What use could you possibly have for a muggle lighter?” he asked as they headed for Harry’s house.

“I found it in Sirius’ old stuff. I gather Remus, Sirius and my dad smoked a lot when they were teenagers,” Harry explained, feeling a touch of grief. “Sirius had loads of old muggle stuff – I think it was to impress Remus.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Why would Lupin be impressed with muggle stuff?”

Harry shrugged. “Remus’ mum was a muggle,” he explained. “Sirius was a pureblood. I guess he wanted to show that he was interested in Remus’ lifestyle.”

“I’m sure he was,” Malfoy said wryly, cocking an eyebrow.

Harry frowned, worried Malfoy was about to say something disparaging about his godfather.

Seeing his expression, Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Relax, Potter, I’m not about to criticise your dead family members for being gay,” he drawled. “Besides, it’d be awfully hypocritical of me,” he added as an afterthought.

Harry was glad he had already finished his coffee, because he was sure he would have dropped it. “I’m sorry?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I’m into blokes. The wizarding world isn’t too fussed by that sort of thing, you know. Not like the muggles, at least.”

Harry hadn’t known. He frowned, “but what about Parkinson?”

“Pansy?” Malfoy laughed. “She wouldn’t touch my dick with a 10-foot pole even if I wanted her to.”

Harry smiled slightly. Malfoy’s laugh was deep and musical, and Harry didn’t think he’d ever heard it before. He shrugged. “She was always hanging over you at Hogwarts.”

Malfoy nodded. “We’re betrothed,” he said by way of explanation. At Harry’s blank face, he rolled his eyes. “For heirs,” he said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Harry frowned. “So, even though you don’t like each other, you still have to get married?”

“No, Potter. We’re betrothed. One day, when I find the person I actually want to be with, we’ll get black out drunk and have sex. Then, while Pansy’s pregnant, I’ll get married to my person. When the baby is born, it’ll be technically illegitimate, but I will recognise it officially as my heir,” Malfoy explained.

Harry frowned. It all sounded so clinical. “What does Pansy get out of it?”

“Thinking like a Slytherin, Potter. I didn’t know you had it in you,” Malfoy smirked. “She gets to live off my incredible wealth until she gets married,” he explained. “Obviously it’s not such a great deal for her anymore, but she’s still keen to do it. It’s her duty as a pureblood daughter, anyhow.”

Harry nodded but didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how he felt about that particular pure-blood custom.

When they got back to Grimmauld Place, Ron was playing piano. Hermione was spending the morning at Hogwarts, helping with the rebuilding effort.

“Why does Weasley sound like he’s stomping on the keys?” Malfoy asked, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to Kreacher, who was standing at attention.

Harry frowned. Kreacher had certainly never done that for him before. Glancing at Malfoy, he realised that it was the first time he had seen Malfoy’s left arm since that night on the Astronomy Tower. His dark mark was gone.

Seeing where Harry was staring, Malfoy sighed and quietly mumbled, “Glamour.” Coughing, he cast a _tempus_. “Excellent, Madame Malkin and her assistants should be here any second,” he drawled, glancing Harry up and down. “They’ve got their work cut out for them.”

Passing off a now wide-awake Teddy into the eager arms of Ron, Harry ran a hand through his hair nervously. A ding chimed from the living room, and Harry reluctantly went to accept the floo visitors.

“Lord Potter,” Madam Malkin greeted, shaking his hand. Harry blanched at the title but attempted to retain his composure and resisted asking her to just call him ‘Harry’, earning himself an approving nod from Malfoy. “Lord Malfoy has informed me that you will be hosting a Pledge as well as a ball for Midsomer.”

Harry nodded in confirmation but frowned slightly. He wasn’t sure he wanted the public to find out about all of this just yet. The dressmaker reassured him. “Lord Potter, we have dressed and fitted the Heads of the most Ancient and Nobel Houses of Britain for centuries. We pride ourselves on our integrity and discretion. If you so wish, however, we can make an Oath that no one outside these four walls will hear of this meeting.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Harry said quickly, but Malfoy frowned. “Let’s get started, yes?” he asked, trying to muster some enthusiasm for being pinned and prodded for the next thirty minutes.

It turned out that Harry had been ambitious thinking the fitting would only take half an hour. After all of his measurements had been taken – some seeming utterly unnecessary (why on earth would anyone need to know the distance between his nostrils?) – he had been sentenced to death by a dreadfully long discussion of fabrics and patterns. As soon as it became clear that Harry had absolutely no idea what the difference between a dark grey and black was, however, Malfoy took the lead, leaving Harry to drink his tea sullenly.

Finally, the dressmaker and her assistants made for the floo and informed Harry that he’d have five plain casual robes, seven lounge formal robes, and two black-tie robes by the end of the month. He didn’t want to think of how much it would all cost, but Malfoy had pointed out that if he were to have money, he may as well spend it.

After a quick lunch, Harry had been hoping that he would be allowed the rest of the day off to go and play with Teddy, but Malfoy had other plans.

“The representative from Gringotts will be here any moment now,” Malfoy told him. “I imagine we’ll spend the rest of the afternoon after that visiting your estates.”

Harry perked up at that. “You really think I have any?” he asked eagerly.

Malfoy nodded. “I know of at least one Potter property in Wiltshire. It’s under a stasis spell, and several extremely powerful protective and secretive wards, but the Dark Lord was briefly convinced that’s where you were when you disappeared. It drove him insane thinking you were just under his nose.” He swirled his tea. “The Blacks definitely have several properties, but you’ll need Curse Breakers to go through them first. Same with the Gaunt households, if there are any. The Peverell’s were an incredibly wealthy family, but their properties were probably sold off when the line was presumed extant. You’d definitely have the legal rights to displace several families, if you so wished.” At Harry’s face, he smiled softly. “I didn’t think so.”

When Hermione arrived back from Hogwarts, she was out of breath. Gratefully accepting a cup of tea from her boyfriend, she groaned. “That was horrible.”

“What happened?” Harry and Ron asked, immediately reaching for their wands.

Hermione smiled tiredly. “Nothing bad. Just reporters wanting me to answer some questions. A few had ‘volunteered’ with McGonagall to help with the rebuilding, but really they just wanted an excuse to get closer.”

“I’ll have a word with the Prophet,” Harry promised. “Although I doubt they’ll actually listen to me. How many times have I told them to fuck off?”  
Malfoy frowned, thinking. “Actually, they might this time.”

“I’m sorry? Have you met the Prophet reporters?” Harry asked sarcastically.

Malfoy nodded. “I have. The only way you’ll get them off your case is if you threaten them.”

Harry blanched. “No.”

“Not with brute force, Potter,” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Think like a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor for once. Offer a significant donation to the paper on the condition that they’ll conduct an internal review and start acting with integrity,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Give them money?” Harry asked, unsure. “Won’t they just keep doing it so that I pay them more?”

Malfoy scoffed. “Of course not. That’s when you threaten physical repercussions.” At Harry’s look, he amended. “Not bad ones. And not overtly. Just do that thing that you sometimes do when you make it thunder or whatever.”

Harry frowned. “I can’t do that on purpose,” he admitted. “It’s accidental magic.”

“Merlin’s beared, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Accidental magic at your age?” he asked, but it wasn’t in a condescending way. He let out a low whistle. “That’s pretty impressive. What wand are you using?”

Harry blinked, taken aback. “My normal wand?”

Malfoy looked at him in dismay. “Potter, you are the master of the Elder Wand. You can’t channel that much power through the wand you had when you were eleven!”

“But I like my wand,” Harry objected. “And the Elder Wand gives me the heebie-jeebies.

“Gives you the heebie-jeebies,” Malfoy muttered under his breath. “Potter, I don’t care if holding the Elder Wand makes you feel like your body is on fire – you need to start using it. The occasional thunderstorm when you’re angry is one thing, but the more power you try to push through that stick, the more dangerous your outbursts will get. Someone could get hurt.” Malfoy rounded on Hermione. “Granger, how could you let this happen? You know more about wandlore than I do.”

“I tried to tell him,” Hermione shrugged, but looked properly admonished. “I had bigger issues to fight with him about.”

“Merlin give me strength,” Harry heard Malfoy mutter under his breath. The fireplace chimed, and Malfoy snatched Harry’s wand from his pocket. “Go and get the proper one. I’ll greet the goblin. Be quick about it,” he ordered, and paced off to the living room angrily.

Harry looked at Hermione and Ron nervously. “I could have hurt somebody?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “It’s okay. You didn’t. But Malfoy is right. In any case, you shouldn’t be keeping the most powerful wand in existence in your sock drawer.”

Harry felt incredibly guilty as he made his way quickly up the stairs. He hadn’t mean to put people in danger. And a part of him, a bigger part of him that he cared to admit, was feeling guilty for disappointing Malfoy. Shaking off that unpleasant thought, he groped around in his drawer and quickly found the wand.

A sudden wave of magic rushed up his arm, sending pricks of tingles throughout his body. Holding it carefully in his wand hand, he took a deep breath and cast.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he said quietly. A ball of light lit up the dark room at the tip of the wand, but it was a much bigger light than he’d ever made before.

Frowning, he tried another. “ _Nox._ ” The light went out as normal. Turning to a locked chest of drawers next to his bed that held his pictures of his parents, he cast, “ _Alohamora._ ” The drawer shot open so fast, it hit he knee.

Glancing down at the wand thrumming in his hand, he sighed. This was certainly going to take getting used to, he thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard to write. It's all a bit exposition-y for me so far. I hope I can maintain your interest.

By the time Harry made his way down the stairs, Hermione and Malfoy were nose-deep in paperwork across from a very dismayed goblin. The goblin gasped and rose when Harry entered.

“Forgive me, Lord Potter. They would not wait for your authorisation,” the goblin said, scowling.

Harry waved him off. “It’s quite alright, …”

“Grannuff, sir,” the goblin supplied for him.

Malfoy indicated for him to sit down at the head of the table. Harry did as he were bid and indicated for Grannuff to take his place.

“It’s quite alright, Grannuff. Ms. Granger and Lord Malfoy will understand it much better than I will,” Harry smiled. “They are my…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. Friends? Hermione, certainly. Malfoy, not so much.

“Advisors?” Ron supplied helpfully from the floor where he was playing peek-a-boo with Teddy.

Harry nodded shortly. Malfoy smirked, but turned to business. “I think for security reasons, we should keep the vaults at Gringotts separate. They should be under one account, though. This amount of paperwork is quite ridiculous,” he drawled at Grannuff.

Grannuff gulped audibly and produced four separate pieces of parchment from the pile. Snapping his fingers, the pages melted together to create one long roll of parchment. “Your inventory, Lord Potter,” the goblin said, handing it to Harry.

Harry glanced down at it. The amount of money sent a chill down his spine and heat rush to his cheeks. Quickly passing it to Hermione, he nodded his thanks to Grannuff.

Hermione frowned, reading it, and comparing it to her records. “There are 8000 galleons missing from the Potter accounts,” she muttered, handing the parchment to Malfoy.

Harry looked up sharply. “Who else had access to the account?”

Grannuff fished for a document. “According to our records, only you and Mr. Albus Dumbledore.”

“Do you know where this money has gone?” Harry asked, not surprised by the goblin’s answer.

Grannuff glanced at the document he was holding. “According to our records, 500 galleons were converted to the muggle British pound and withdrawn every year since 1981.”

Harry nodded. The Dursley’s. “Good to know how much I am worth,” he muttered. Addressing the goblin, he asked, “How many people have access to these accounts now?”

“Only you, Lord Potter,” Grannuff said.

“Right. Okay. Good.” He rubbed a hand over his scar.

Malfoy coughed, drawing their attention. “Grannuff, please arrange for the gold to be kept in the separate vaults for each House. Are you able to remove all of the artefacts to a separate place without touching them?” he asked. At Grannuff’s confirmation, he nodded. “Please do so at your earliest convenience.” Turning to Harry, he added, “I don’t think you should touch any of the artefacts in those vaults until a Curse-Breaker has gone through them all.”

Harry nodded, remembering the debacle with Bellatrix’ vault. Remembering the large hole he had left in the bank’s ceiling the last time he’d been there, he turned to Grannuff. “I’m sorry for the harm we caused your establishment recently. Is there anything I can do to repay Gringotts?”

Malfoy sucked in a breath. Harry internally rolled his eyes, knowing he had broken some sort of pure-blood protocol. The goblin, however, smiled in a way that Harry was sure was not meant to be nasty. “You are wise, Lord Potter, to seek forgiveness from the goblins. Many wizards wouldn’t. The hole has already been repaired.” Grannuff paused, and then added, “The goblins do not interest themselves with the wars of wizards, but I am glad to be having this conversation with you rather than your counterpart.”

Harry shuddered at the idea of Voldemort being his counterpart, but nodded at the goblin, allowing the subject to drop.

Malfoy cleared his throat, and business resumed. Hermione, Malfoy and Grannuff discussed in detail Harry’s assets, but Harry himself found his attention wandering. Malfoy kicked him in the shin.

“Ow,” Harry complained, pulled out of his reverie. “What?”

Malfoy gestured at the box in front of him. Harry opened it cautiously. Inside were five rings, each with a silver band, but with different gems.

“Your family rings,” Malfoy said by way of explanation. “Put them on your right ring-finger,” he said, showing Harry his hand. Placed on his right ring-finger was a silver band, much like those in the box, with a deep blue gem in the middle.

Harry did as he was bid, Malfoy indicating which family each ring belonged to as he picked them up.

The Black ring was like its name, a dark obsidian jewel glinting under the lights. Harry slipped it onto his finger and it glowed, resizing to fit.

The Gaunt ring was a green sapphire, according to Malfoy, deep in colour like a forest. Harry slipped it onto the same finger, wondering how all of them were going to fit. Glowing warm, the sapphire seemed to slip off the Gaunt band and squeezed next to the Black jewel on the same band.

“You can remove the extra band,” Malfoy said. Harry put it back in the box.

The Peverell gem was a greyish-white but seemed to be iridescent under the light from the sconces on the walls. According to Malfoy it was a labradorite, and the iridescence was called labradorescence.

The Potter gem was, rather predictably a large ruby. Harry held it in his palm for a touch longer than the others, wondering if his dad had ever worn it. Placing it on his finger, the ring warmed again, letting off a bright light as the four gems settled on the band.

Harry decided not to place the Potter band back in the box like he had with the others, slipping it onto the middle finger of his left hand. Sure Malfoy was going to call him something to the effect of a sentimental fool, he turned to face him, but Malfoy nodded approvingly.

Harry reached for the last ring in the box. It was smaller than the others and gold, not silver. The top of the ring was flat and featured a small engraving of the Potter family crest.

“It’s your signet ring. You wear it on the pinkie of your non-dominant hand,” Malfoy told him, showing his own ring on the pinkie of his left hand. “When you send official correspondence, you’ll seal it with your ring.”

Harry thought the rings on his fingers felt a bit heavy and unusual but knew there’d be hell to pay if he tried to take them off.

Hermione leaned in. “Is it true the family rings can act as a portkey to your family home?” she asked Malfoy.

Malfoy paused, but nodded. “That feature can be disabled, however,” he said quietly. Shaking his head, he turned to Grannuff. “Speaking of, do you have documentation of Lord Potter’s estates?”

“Of course,” Grannuff said, looking mildly offended. “Lord Potter has inherited several, including this one,” he said as he produced another roll of parchment.

Harry reached for it hungrily, searching the list for the house he’d wanted to visit more than anything in his life. He breathed out. There it was – the Potter Manor. Where his dad had been raised. Where Sirius had run away to when he was sixteen. Where his grandparents had lived. His home. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Grannuff nodded. “Unless you have any other questions, Lord Potter, I’ll be off.” With a grateful handshake from Harry, a crack sounded and the goblin disappeared.

“I just need a few minutes,” he said quietly in the vague direction of the living room. Scooping Teddy up, he walked in silence to the nursery.

Teddy gurgled in his arms and, as he took his seat in an old armchair, he bounced the baby with his knee.

“I don’t know, Teddy,” he said quietly to the infant. Teddy looked up at him with big, unblinking blue eyes. Harry glanced down at his hands. “I really wish I had my dad. Or Sirius. Or your dad,” he whispered, refusing to let a tear fall down his cheek.

It was all getting a bit much for him. With the rings on his fingers, he had never felt closer to his parents, but also had never felt further away from them. “I miss them,” he said to Teddy.

A few minutes later, Harry had steeled himself enough to return to the others. “Hey, sorry about that,” he said as he walked in.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, coming over to give him a tight hug. “You okay?”

“Yep. Are you guys free to go on an excursion?” Harry asked, his tone making it clear he didn’t want to talk about it.

Ron grinned, clapping him on the back. “Of course. Excursions with you are always fun.”

Harry laughed. He turned to Malfoy, who was still making notes on the parchment strewn all over the desk. “What about you, Malfoy?”

“The Potter Manor?” Malfoy asked. He rubbed his forearm. “I might stay here if that’s okay. I’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said nonchalantly.

Harry frowned but didn’t press him. He had mentioned it was in Wiltshire. Perhaps it was too close to Malfoy Manor for his comfort. “How do we get there?” he asked, instead.

“Just tap your wand against your ring, and think of where you want to go,” Malfoy said. “It will be under stasis, so when you get there you’ll be the only one who can see it. You’ll have to bleed two drops on the ground, and then invite Granger and Weasley in. I imagine there’ll be house elves there. They’ll walk you through the rest.”

Harry couldn’t help but think that it would be much easier if Malfoy just came with them, but he couldn’t wait to see the house. Nodding his goodbye to Malfoy, and wrapping Teddy in his sling, he linked arms with his friends.

Tapping his ring with the Elder Wand, he held his breath. Realising he didn’t know what the place would look like, he thought of instead the words printed on the parchment he’d seen earlier. _Potter Manor, Wiltshire._

He felt the familiar tug of apparition and held on tight to Teddy as they spun into the darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Potter Manor. I'm not very good at writing descriptions of houses, so I have to admit I stole most of this from the listing of a castle in Wiltshire.  
> https://search.savills.com/property-detail/gblhchlac180119?mod=article_inline 
> 
> Speaking of, how awesome does this place look? I'd kill to live here.

For Hermione, Ron, and, Harry supposed, Teddy, they landed in a beautiful, if slightly overgrown, field, facing a mound of grass and the outline of a long since dried-up moat.

Harry, however, could see a castle. It wasn’t as large as Hogwarts, or quite as old, but it had familiar castellations, turrets, stone archways and mullioned windows. He let out a breath.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked, attempting to sound concerned for him, but Harry could hear the edge to her voice – she could never stand not knowing something.

Without speaking, he sliced his thumb open with a slash of his wand, allowing a few drops to spill onto the grass. Wards, suddenly visible to him, shimmered with gold, and he stepped through them. “Ron, Hermione, Teddy, come in,” he said.

Ron and Hermione gasped as they entered the wards. “Bloody hell, mate,” Ron laughed, clapping him on the back. “You’ve got a bloody castle!”

Harry’s throat was dry, as he gazed at the building before him. “It’s very big,” he observed.

Hermione took Harry by the arm and led them to a stone path that led up to the gatehouse. By the large stone archway next to the gate, three nicely-dressed elves stood to attention.

“Master Potter has returned home!” one of them squeaked, pleased.

Harry felt incredibly awkward. “Erm, hello,” he smiled at them. “I’m Harry.”

The eldest, and, by the withering look she gave the elf that had already spoken, most senior elf curtseyed to Harry. “I know your name, Master. I was there when you were born.”

“You were?” Harry asked, excitedly. These elves had known his parents!

The elf nodded. “I am Roslyn. This is Mimsey,” she said, indicating the elf who had spoken before, “and this is Hokka.” The last elf was larger than the other two and remained silent as he looked at Harry with scrutiny but nodded in deference as he was introduced.

Mimsey seemed to be bursting out of her dress with excitement as the three elves opened the large front door for Harry. “Master is home now! We is waiting so long!”

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry, Mimsey. I didn’t know this place existed until today.”

Roslyn scowled. “The house was placed under stasis, Master, when your parents passed. We kept working the gardens and the winery and assumed you would return to us when you turned eleven. Mr. Dumbledore told us this was not possible.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, Dumbledore said that about a lot of things.”

The Entrance Hall was very large but sparsely decorated with a richly embroidered rug, two bronze stag heads on either side of the door, and a large Gryffindor-red tapestry that featured a family tree, like the one in the Black House.

“Dad,” Harry breathed as he found the embroidery of a familiar-looking mess of black hair and glasses. Next to him, pale compared to the rest of his family, was his mother with flaming red hair. “Mum,” Harry choked out.

Next to all, except one, of the names on the tapestry, a small ‘d’ was inscribed. Beneath his parents, an eerily-accurate likeness of Harry appeared, although his tapestry counterpart didn’t have Harry’s dark under-eye bags.

“Wow, Harry,” Hermione said, coming to stand beside him.

Roslyn smiled at him and indicated to their left. “Through here is the family room, Master,” she said, pausing. “I think you’ll want to see it.”

Harry dragged his eyes away from the tapestry and followed her through the doors to a large but comfortable-looking sitting room.

“No way,” Ron exclaimed, running over to a small television set in the corner of the room. “How does it work in here?” he asked the elves.

Mimsey squeaked. “Don’t get too close to it! It’s under a void,” she said, looking at the piece of muggle technology warily. Voids were very dangerous, very rarely used outside of the Department of Mysteries, as they prevented all magic within them. Ron wisely stepped back, but Hermione edged closer, looking fascinated.

Harry ignored most of this interaction, jaw nearly on the floor. Large portraits crowded the walls, the largest of which was a portrait of four very familiar-looking young wizards.

Taking a few steps forward hesitantly, he peered into the frame, sure he was mistaken. There they were, the marauders.

A teenaged James Potter smiled broadly at him. “Harry, my boy!” he said in a deep, booming voice, “You are so grown up!”

Harry blinked, his heart pounding. He searched for his voice. “Dad?”

A young Sirius elbowed James out of the way. “Prongslet! And Moonslet!” he cried excitedly. “Look, Moony, it’s your sprog!”

16-year-old Remus smiled at Harry, his eyes watering. “Hullo Harry, Teddy,” he said softly.

Harry glanced down at Teddy, and, since his face was currently smushed into his chest, he unwrapped him from the sling and cradled him in his eyes. Turning his body sideways, he said quietly, “Look, Teddy. It’s our dads.” Teddy gazed at the portrait

“I’m so proud of you, son,” James said quietly. “I know I’m not really here, but I want you to know that, wherever I am, I’m proud of you.”

Harry nodded, his throat finally unsticking. “I know. Thanks, dad.”

He glanced at the fourth person in the portrait. Short and stubby, young Peter Pettigrew seemed to be very far back in the frame and was wisely staying out of the way for this particular reunion. James noticed Harry’s gaze and shook his head firmly.

Remus, no doubt sensing the heightened emotions and wanting to ease the tension, broke the silence. “Ron, Hermione,” he nodded at the two. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Professor Lupin,” Hermione said, feeling very weirded out by calling a teenager ‘Professor’.

James smiled at them. “Thank you for keeping my boy safe,” he said.

Hermione and Ron nodded at him. They stood in silence a few minutes longer, before Roslyn cleared her throat.

James smiled. “You’d best finish your tour of the house, Harry. We’re not going anywhere,” he said self-deprecatingly. Harry blinked and realised for the first time in his life, his three father-figures literally couldn’t go anywhere.

Leaving the room, Harry kept glancing back at the portrait, his heart hammering in his chest. Hermione squeezed his hand and Ron clapped him on the back.

Roslyn led them down the stairs into a bright kitchen with a small dining table. Opening what appeared to be a regular cupboard, Roslyn stepped through to reveal a large potion’s lab. “She didn’t live here for long, but your mother spent a lot of time in here,” the elf said, her voice laced with regret. “Mistress Lily was very kind. She taught me to read.”

Hermione grinned at Harry. “I think I would like your mum, Harry,” she said softly. Turning to Roslyn, Mimsey and Hokka, she asked, not unkindly, “Are you happy working here? Wouldn’t you rather be free?”

Mimsey looked horrified and Hokka looked disgusted. Roslyn looked appraisingly at Hermione. “You are very like Mistress Lily, Mistress Hermione. She asked me the same thing.” Roslyn paused, but addressed Harry when she continued. “My family has been working for the Potters for over three-hundred years. It is an honour to be one of their house-elves. I served your grandparents and parents. I will continue to serve you, as will my daughter,” she said fiercely, waving a hand in the direction of Mimsey.

Harry blinked. He hadn’t thought that house-elves had children, although he supposed that they must. He nodded, shooting a regretful look at Hermione. “I hope I can live up to your expectations,” he said very seriously.

Suddenly, Hokka let out a bark of a noise. “Hokka finds you amusing,” Roslyn explained. “He lost his tongue working for his last family. Mistress Lily and Master James took him in.”

Harry shuddered. “That’s horrible, Hokka,” he said, remembering how Dobby had been treated by the Malfoys.

Hokka shrugged and moved his hands and fingers in a strange manner. Roslyn looked exasperated at him, but translated, “You are already exceeding his expectations.”

They exited the kitchen and made their way up the grand staircase to the right of the entrance hall.

Hermione gasped as they entered a long gallery. “It’s exactly like the Hall of Mirrors!” she exclaimed. “Mum and Dad took me to Versailles when we went to Paris.”

“Where do you think Louis XV got the idea?” Roslyn smirked, clearly enjoying Hermione’s reaction.

Harry could hardly breathe throughout the whole tour. He’d never really had a home before, and suddenly he had a whole castle. From the Hall of Mirrors, a wide central staircase lead to: the library, with decoratively carved bookcases lining two walls and an impressive floor to ceiling stone fireplace; a small but beautifully decorative study with even more books, and the dining room, with a wide bay stone mullioned window and an ornately carved stone fireplace. Returning to the Hall of Mirrors, they were lead to the drawing room, a light and airy room with windows offering sweeping views of the gardens, a large fireplace, a fine ceiling with ornate carved and gilded decoration, and easy access to the gardens via the adjoining Fernery and a secondary kitchen. Upstairs, there were two impressive Principle Bedroom Suites offering views over the gardens and the countryside beyond, as well as seven additional en-suite bedrooms.

“The rose garden was a particular favourite of your grandmother,” Roslyn said, pointing to a small, blooming area encircled by ramparts. “They bloom year-round, and pixies can often be found there.”

“Are there any other magical creatures here?” Harry asked, thinking of Hagrid. He would love the gardens here, he thought with a pang of guilt. Since the battle, Hagrid had been working hard to rebuild his hut and care for Grawp, who had been quite badly injured. Harry hadn’t seen the half-giant nearly enough in the past month.

Roslyn nodded excitedly. “We house several Thestrals and two Pegasai in the stables,” she said, pointing to a large stable near the winery. “As well as several muggle horses.”

“Pegasai?” Hermione asked, interested. “I’ve never seen one before.”

“They is very shy, Mistress. They is too scared of the noisy children being at Hogwarts,” Mimsey explained in a squeaky voice.

Roslyn asked the three to stay for dinner, and pointedly asked when Harry was going to move in. “This house has gone far too long without a master,” Roslyn said sadly.

Harry had already made up his mind. “As soon as I can,” he promised, even more eager to leave Grimmauld Place than he had been before. He paused. “Do you mind if I bring another house-elf with me?”

Mimsey squeaked excitedly. “Master is bringing friends for us!”

“Erm … he’s not very friendly,” Harry warned, not wanting to get her hopes up. Harry wondered if Kreacher would even want to leave Grimmauld Place. He was still very attached to his memories of his old masters. Harry supposed if he didn’t, he could set it up as an office or something. Not that he had use for an office of any sort. Filing those thoughts for later, he turned to the others. “We should probably be going back now, Malfoy’s waiting for us.”

The elves waved them off as, clutching bottles of the Potter Manor’s Elvish Wine, they stepped through a newly-connected floo with promises that they’d set up a nursery for Teddy.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Heavy fluff ahead.

Malfoy’s seat at the dining table was empty when they returned, a note in its place.

_‘Potter,_

_I was called away on urgent personal matters. To the left of this note is some correspondence that needs addressing – I have drafted responses but I will not send them until you’ve read them and given approval. Use your signet ring. Speaking of, please get an owl. Kreacher is fed up with going to the post office in Diagon Alley._

_I will not be available tomorrow. You have a meeting with Head Auror Robards at 10 sharp in the morning. Please be on time. I know you’d prefer to floo directly to his offices, but I think you should make an appearance in the atrium of the Ministry. As much as you would like to be, you are not a normal wizard. The people need to know you are still there, involved in the rebuilding of the wizarding world, still fighting for them. Madam Malkin has finished all of your non-formal robes – they are in your wardrobe. I’d suggest some plain black robes with the dark red cloak – it is invocative of the Auror uniform. Dress for the job you want and all that._

_If you intend on being seen in person, I’d recommend bringing both Weasley and Granger. They’re part of your team, after all. They should stand two feet behind you as you are walking but move in front of you if the press becomes too much. Don’t answer any questions, and don’t shake any hands. Say that you will be addressing concerns shortly. Keep your public appearance short and sweet – just enough for them to take a few candid photos. Don’t bring Teddy – you need to cultivate your image as a war hero, not a teen-aged parent._

_I look forward to hearing of your visit to Potter Manor._

_D. Malfoy.’_

Harry frowned, a little disappointed, and perhaps a touch jealous, that Malfoy wasn’t waiting for him. Passing the note to Hermione, he said, “I don’t know how I feel about using you two as my body guards.”

Hermione was silent as she read. She sighed, “I’m not particularly keen on the idea of being in between the press and you, either, but he is right. You’d be two vulnerable if you were by yourself, and if you took anybody else it would raise too many questions.”

Harry couldn’t help but quietly think that he didn’t have anybody to take, anyway. Ginny was still underage, and if he brought her people would no doubt ask about their non-existent relationship. George was still too fragile. Bill and Arthur were working. Molly would be babysitting Teddy. His heart sank a little as he remembered everybody else he used to have to guard his back was dead.

“I do hope Malfoy is alright,” Hermione said, dragging Harry from his thoughts.

Harry raised a brow. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “’Urgent personal business’ is posh speak for someone close to you is sick. Probably Narcissa.” Clocking Harry’s expression of worry, she added quickly, “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Harry nodded, but grabbed a blank piece of parchment. It was thicker than the stuff he usually used and picking up the quill resting in the ink pot next to it, he realised that it too was much fancier than the one he had found in the bottom of his school trunk. Glancing at the note to see how he should structure it, he wrote:

‘ _Malfoy,_

_Thank you for your note. Potter Manor was fantastic. ~~It’s beautiful. You would like it, I think.~~ There is a portrait of my dad. It was nice to speak to him._

_I hope you and your mother are well. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help. I’ll have Kreacher take this to you, and he can get you anything you need. He’ll love waiting on your mother – she’s a true Black._

_I’ll do as you say tomorrow, but I’m not looking forward to it._

_See you soon,_

_H. Potter.’_

Folding it in thirds as Hermione showed him, he poured a bit of dark red melted wax that was sitting in a small bain-marie onto the letter and pressed his signet ring onto it.

The end result was pretty messy, but Harry knew that Malfoy would be pleased that he at least attempted to be proper. He couldn’t help the flush of heat that spread across his cheeks at that thought. Why did he care so much what Malfoy thought of him?

As Harry fell into bed that night, he forgot to uncork the bottle of Dreamless Sleep on his bedside table for the first time since the Battle.

Waking the next morning, he felt more awake and refreshed than he had been in many months. Teddy had only woken up twice to be fed and had fallen asleep fairly quickly both times.

Over breakfast, he read over the letters Malfoy had put aside for him. Two were from Kingsley, with updates on Greyback’s trial and details regarding the meeting with Robards. Malfoy’s response was concise but cordial, thanking him for keeping Harry informed and involved. Harry was surprised at how much Malfoy’s words sounded like Harry’s, if a bit more thought-through and proper. One was from Hagrid, inviting Harry to lunch sometime this week. Malfoy had hit the nail on the head with his response, asking for him to come to Grimmauld Place instead. Harry loved Hagrid, but his food left a bit to be desired. Harry copied the letter word for word onto a new sheet of parchment but replaced Grimmauld Place with Potter Manor and explained a bit about the property.

Another letter was from McGonagall, thanking the Harry, Ron and Hermione for their help at Hogwarts over the past few weeks, as well as an additional thank you to Harry for the significant donation he had made. To be totally honest Malfoy had organised all of it, and Harry had just signed off on it. Nevertheless, it felt good to be doing something helpful for a change. A further donation had been made to St. Mungo’s for those injured during the battle.

Seamus and Dean had written with an invitation to their engagement party. Harry was thrilled for them. A lot of people had been getting married recently, Harry supposed the war had made everyone realise just how short life was. Ron, Harry and Neville were to be their best men.

Neville himself had written with an invitation to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Dean, Seamus and, notably, Malfoy, for drinks at a muggle pub local to him. He had included a brief explanation in Harry’s, saying that his grandmother had heard from Narcissa what Malfoy and Harry were attempting to do and that she was thrilled. Apparently, all of the ‘Old Crowd’ was. Harry had no idea who that was, but Harry was pleased that Malfoy was invited too. Harry penned a quick acceptance back, asking if it was alright if George came too, thinking it’d be good for him to get out for a bit.

Malfoy had also drafted a formal letter to The Prophet, outlining a hefty donation from Harry for them to ‘conduct an extensive internal review.’ Harry smirked as he read the letter, personally thinking Malfoy’s not-so-veiled threats were pretty amusing.

Making sure all the letters were properly formatted and signed, Harry sealed each one. He called for Kreacher.

“Master,” the house elf cracked into the kitchen.

“Hey Kreacher. How were the Malfoys?” Harry asked anxiously.

The house-elf looked quite dejected. “Mistress Black is not being well, Master. Is raving and screaming at Kreacher. Master Malfoy is calming Mistress down with potions.”

Harry frowned. He hadn’t known Narcissa was quite that unwell. “Did Malfoy say he needed anything?”

“No,” Kreacher said. “Master Malfoy is thanking Master but is saying it is under control.”

Harry nodded. He supposed there was nothing else for him to do. “There at a Ministry safe house, right?” he asked.

“Yes, Master.” Kreacher said, his ears drooping. “It is not being fit for the home of a Black.”

Harry nodded, wondering if Malfoy and his mother would want to move into Grimmauld Place if Harry, Ron and Hermione moved to Potter Manor. It would certainly make much more sense and keep the house from being empty. He’d ask next time he saw Malfoy. Changing the subject for the incredibly depressed-looking elf’s sake as well as his own, he asked, “Is it possible to mail-order an owl?” Harry wasn’t quite up to facing Diagon Alley.

Kreacher nodded. “Kreacher be getting Master an owl. What type is Master wishing?”

Harry sighed. He still grieved for Hedwig – his first magical friend after Hagrid. “I don’t mind,” he said. “Not a Snowy. Something that won’t tire from large distances.”

Kreacher looked very happy as he nodded. “Kreacher is getting Master an Eagle Owl. Master Regulus was having an Eagle Owl,” he said matter-of-factly.

Harry shrugged, happy enough with that reasoning. “Thank you, Kreacher. Can you please take these to the Post Office and have them sent out?” he asked, handing over the letters. “You won’t have to send anymore once I get an owl,” he promised.

Kreacher nodded eagerly and cracked away.

Harry wandered upstairs and into Teddy’s nursery, surprised to see Ron sitting quietly with a sleeping infant in his arms.

“I’m stuck,” Ron whispered, not wanting to wake Teddy.

Harry chuckled, sitting down on the floor next to his friend’s armchair. “Rooky mistake.” He glanced at his watch. “He’ll wake up soon for his next feed anyway.”

“Thank Merlin,” Ron grumbled, but looked down at Teddy with such care in his eyes that the effect was ruined.

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit, before Harry sighed. “I’m worried about Malfoy.”

“Mate, when are you not worried about Malfoy?” Ron asked with a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, I’m worried about Narcissa. Kreacher said she was raving and screaming.”

Ron nodded. “She was in Mungo’s for a few weeks after the trial. Apparently, she caused some damage when she put up her mental shields against Voldemort when she lied to him about you being dead. That’s what the healers think, anyway.”

Harry looked at him in surprise. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Mum. She went to visit when Lucius died,” Ron explained, shrugging. “Said that no one deserves to be alone in grief. She volunteers at Mungo’s a lot now, to keep her mind off Fred.”

Harry frowned. Ron hadn’t really talked about his older brother since the battle. “How are you going?” he asked quietly.

Ron sighed. “I’m not great,” he admitted, biting his lip. “It hurts. More than I thought it would.” He blew softly on Teddy’s forehead to remove a stray blue lock from the baby’s face. “I’m glad I’m not at the Burrow. That’d be too much.”

Harry nodded. The two never really talked about their emotions, unless they were yelling at each other - part of what Hermione called their ‘toxic masculinity’ - and knew Ron was feeling uncomfortable being so vulnerable. “I don’t want to live by myself,” Harry said quietly. “I know you want to live near Hogwarts, so you can see Hermione. I’ll get used to it. I’ll just miss you both.”

The three of them had been living together for almost nine months. Before that, Harry and Ron had nearly always shared a bedroom. Harry wasn’t sure how he’d feel when he was suddenly alone.

Ron frowned. “Are you going to move into your castle?” he asked. 

“I think so,” Harry nodded. “It’s certainly much nicer than here. Plus, I think it’d be good for Teddy to be around Remus.” At Ron’s look, Harry added, “I know it’s not really him. It’s just a portrait. But I didn’t know what my mum or dad looked like until I was 11. I don’t want that for Teddy.”

Ron nodded. “Still, it’s a big house. You sure you’ll be okay?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve faced worse,” he said self-deprecatingly.

“Do you think you could get more portkey ring things?” Ron asked suddenly.

Harry shrugged. “Probably. Why?”

Ron grinned. “Well, if Hermione and I had one, I could live with you. She could live with us on the weekends. I mean, we’d have to ask McGonagall, but she’s hardly going to say no – not to Hermione. I could apparate into Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley to work in the shop.”

Harry grinned, feeling much better all of a sudden. “You’d really do that for me?”  
Ron nodded. “If you’ll have us,” he said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just offered Harry the solution to all of his problems. “Hermione wants to track down her parents in the Christmas holidays though.”

Harry nodded. He was surprised she hadn’t wanted to go before school went back, actually.

Ron looked at him through the corner of his eye. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, seriously.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Everything alright?”

Ron nodded, shifting Teddy slightly. “I think I want to ask Hermione to marry me. When we find her parents, I want to ask for their permission. Ginny told me that’s a thing muggles do. Since you’re her family, too, I wanted to talk to you first.”

Harry’s face split into a wide grin. “Of course, you have my permission! I’m so happy for you!” he exclaimed.

Ron smiled, looking a little relieved. “I know it’s a bit soon, but I don’t really care. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I’m not going to wait any longer.

“She’ll be thrilled, Ron,” Harry told him confidently. Teddy seemed to think so, too, as he blinked his eyes open and started fussing.

Ron gratefully passed Teddy into Harry’s willing arms. “I haven’t got a ring yet, but Ginny said she’s going to help. I’d never find one on my own.”

Harry smiled, thanking Kreacher as he cracked in with a bottle for Teddy. “Can I come too? Not that I know what to look for, but it’ll be fun.”

Ron clapped him on the back. “I believe that’s your official duty, best man.”

Harry’s cheeks heated up. “Really?” he asked. “I thought you’d want one of your brothers.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You are my brother, Harry,” Ron said, a touch fiercely.

Harry’s cheeks were no doubt brighter than a tomato by now. His eyes started to water, but he blinked them away. He’d always considered Ron and Hermione his family, but it filled his heart to know they thought of him the same way. He wiped the formula on Teddy’s chin with a muslin wrap. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Get used to it,” Ron grunted. They’d both had their fill of emotions today. “I’m going to have a shower.”

Harry couldn’t wipe the smile off his face for the rest of the morning, even as he was changing Teddy’s nappy.

Just short of an hour later, the three were dressed semi-formally, and were dropping Teddy off at the Burrow. Harry dressed as Malfoy had directed, and Ron and Hermione were both wearing plain black robes over some training blacks that Malfoy had procured them.

“Wow,” Ginny said as they emerged from the green flames. “You three are a sight.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably under her appraising look. “You think so? It’s not a bit much?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, you just defeated Voldemort. You need to look the part,” she said, gratefully accepting a mug of coffee from George. “Besides, if we present a united front, it’ll be harder for the press to rip us to shreds.”

Harry gulped, not particularly fond of the idea of being torn to shreds. He hugged Teddy closer to his chest. “Can’t I just stay here?” he pouted.

“Absolutely not,” Ginny admonished, plucking the baby from his arms. “Come on, Teddy, your godfather has to go and be a badass now.”

Sighing, he kissed Teddy on the forehead. “See you soon, Teddy.”

Glancing at Ron and Hermione, he grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it at the hearth. “The Ministry,” he said, trying to muster up some courage.

“Let’s go and face the wolves,” Hermione said grimly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments! Have a great day, everybody :)

Harry, Ron and Hermione were not greeted with the Ministry’s normal hustle and bustle as they stepped out of the floos, but the sound of about a hundred voices shouting their names and the clicking of cameras.

“They were waiting for us. Someone must have told them you were coming,” Ron complained as he stepped in front of Harry in a show of support.

Harry grit his teeth but said nothing as Hermione and Ron attempted to clear a path for him.

“Harry Potter. Are you going to become an Auror?” a reporter asked. “Will you marry me, Harry?” a middle-aged witch shouted. “What do you think of The Weird Sisters’ new album?” “Are you going to complete your NEWTs?” “Are you going to run for Minister?” “Do you think the death-eaters should be given the dementor’s kiss?”

The last question made Harry pause even as more things were shouted at him, but he could feel Hermione tighten her grip on his arm. Glancing up, he saw her shake minutely.

Turning to the group of people, which had somehow doubled since the last time he’d looked up, he cleared his throat. “I will not be answering any questions today. I’m at the Ministry to help the Minister and members of staff with their efforts to rebuild and reform wizarding society. I will be able to address your concerns at a later date,” Harry said, trying to sound confident.

Not waiting for them to respond, he spun around and walked towards the lifts with Hermione and Ron close on his heels, the doors closing before any of them could think to follow him. “Bloody hell,” Harry complained. “I’m apparating home.”

“Can’t apparate inside the Ministry, Harry,” Hermione reminded him gently, but she was looking a bit green too. “Maybe Kingsley will let us use his floo again.”

Ron clapped Harry on the back. “It went better than it could have,” he tried.

The lift chimed as they reached the second level, and an automated female voice declared, “Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

In front of the doors to the Auror Department, a tall man with a deep scar on his left cheek was waiting for them. “Mr. Potter,” the man said gruffly, shaking his hand in greeting. “Gawain Robards.”

Harry nodded at him. “It’s nice to meet you. This is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.”

Robards shook their hands, too, and lifted the corner of his mouth slightly. “Reckon it’d be hard to not know your three’s names,” he commented wryly. “Sorry about downstairs. They’ve been here all morning. Probably Ambarella’s doing. I’ll have a word with her.”

Lavina Ambarella was Kingsley’s junior undersecretary. Harry had only had the misfortune to interact with her twice, but that was more than enough for Harry to learn to stay well out of her way, lest he be dragged into another conversation about how he should take her out on a date so that she could be put ‘more in the public eye.’

“Come with me,” Robards said, leading them inside the Auror Headquarters, and into his large office at the end of a large room of cubicles. Several aurors glanced up at them and nodded, but quickly went back to great volumes of paperwork. “Please, have a seat,” Robards gestured to the three seats in front of the desk.

They did quietly. Harry was unsure how he wanted to address the topic of his employment, so he waited for the Head Auror to start. Robards eyed him for a moment with scrutiny. All of a sudden, Harry could feel a breach on his mental walls. Instead of looking away, he simply forced his walls up, and thought calmly ‘Please get out of my head.’

Robards raised an eyebrow. “Very good,” he said nonchalantly, although he looked impressed. Under the glass desk, Harry could see that he had his wand in his right hand. Harry silently allowed his wand to slide from its strap on his forearm into his palm. Robards flicked his wand, casting a wordless stinging hex, but Harry wordlessly cast a protection spell before the auror could finish the spell.

Ron and Hermione were both gripping their wands now, too. Robards sighed and placed his wand back in his pocket. “You can apparate?” he asked.

Harry nodded. He decided not to mention that he’d never technically passed the test.

Robards eyed him for a few more moments, and Harry could feel him still probing around in his head. “Stand up,” Robards said eventually, pulling back from his assault on Harry’s mind.

Harry did, taking off his cloak. He was fairly sure Robards was about to test him and didn’t need Malfoy’s stuffy clothes getting in the way.

“Impedimenta,” Robards cast. Harry batted it away with the elder wand and cast a strong knockback jinx instead, raising an eyebrow.

Robards nodded once at Harry’s challenge and began casting silently. They duelled silently for a while, both breaking out into a light sweat by the time Robards managed to expel Harry’s wand. The man smirked. Harry frowned but quickly cast a wandless and wordless revulsion jinx. Robards dropped his wand. He laughed in surprise, but summoned it back, and continued to send hexes and jinxes at Harry. Harry grinned fully now, and decided not to summon back his own wand, instead deciding to practice his wandless magic. He’d practised a lot right after the Battle whenever Teddy was asleep and didn’t need him. It took his mind off things. To be honest, Harry almost felt more comfortable casting wandlessly than with the Elder Wand.

“Alright, enough,” Robards called from the ceiling after Harry had cast a particularly powerful _levicorpus._ Harry let him down carefully and shook the auror’s hand. “Well done, Potter. That was some seriously impressive magic,” Robards said, returning to his seat.

Harry had a feeling Robards didn’t often give out compliments, so he nodded politely, summoning his wand back to its holster.

Robards poured them all a glass of water, and Harry took one gratefully. “How long can you hold out on Unforgivables?” the auror asked, waving at a QuickQuotes quill as it began to take notes.

Harry eyed it warily, reminded of Rita Skeeter. “I don’t know. I can resist the Imperius curse,” he said truthfully.

“For how long?” Robards asked.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Barty Crouch Jr. tried it on me in fourth year. It took a while, but I shook it off eventually.”

Robards blinked. “Very good. How about Cruciatus?”

“It’s never been cast on me,” Harry said.

Robards sighed. “Okay. And we all know your track record with the Killing curse.”

Harry frowned, worried that Robards thought him some unkillable being. “I can die, you know,” he said. “I have died,” he added after a moment.

Robards raised an eyebrow. “But you own all three Hallows, correct?” At Harry’s nod, he continued. “I admit I don’t know much about it, but doesn’t that make you Master of Death?”

“Harry’s already died.” Hermione frowned. “I’m not sure it works more than once.”

Harry shuddered, remembering the train station and Voldemort’s creepy toddler body. “Yeah, not sure I want to risk it.”

Robards let out a chuckle. “Fair enough.” He glanced down at his notes, before nodding. “Alright, Potter, you can join the task force. I’m not a huge fan of your plan, but I think it’ll be our best chance at drawing them out. Come for training tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to the team,” Robards said, rising to shake Harry’s hand.

Harry grinned. “Thank you, sir. May we use your floo to depart? I don’t want to go downstairs again.” He asked politely.

Robards nodded, but Hermione coughed. “No, Harry, you need to go back down. If they don’t see you leave, they’ll stay all day and interfere with the people who work here,” she said.

“Fine,” Harry groaned. He shrugged on his cloak. “See you tomorrow,” he said to Robards as the three made for the door.

When they left the office, Hermione rounded on him. “I thought you were just joining the training team.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Hermione, I can’t sleep knowing their out there. I can’t let Teddy grow up in a world where there are bloody Death Eaters roaming around!”

“Well you can’t let Teddy grow up in a world where you’re not there to raise him!” Hermione ground out.

Harry sighed. “You saw me in there – Robards thinks I’m ready. He wouldn’t let me into the field if I wasn’t.”

“We will talk about this later,” Hermione growled, deciding against having a full-scale verbal spar outside the DMLE Headquarters.

Harry glanced at Ron, who was clearly on Harry’s side, but trying to look like a supportive boyfriend. He smiled softly at Hermione. “I know you don’t want me to get hurt, but I’m their target anyway. If I don’t do this, they’ll end up hurting me anyway,” he reasoned.

“I suppose you’re right,” Hermione sighed after a minute of deliberating. She jutted out her chin stubbornly. “I still don’t like it.”

Harry pulled her in for a hug, and, after a moment’s hesitation, pulled in Ron too. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” he asked.

“You bet. I’m starved,” Ron joked.

They made the slow descent in the lift towards the atrium in silence. Bracing himself, Harry stepped through the doors with more confidence than he’d had earlier. The crowd seemed to sense it, too, as they all parted for him without him having to say anything. Nodding his thanks, he strode with confidence to the grate. Realising a lot of people were listening, he didn’t want them to know where he was going. He grabbed Hermione and Ron’s elbows, prayed to Merlin that his plan would work, and stepped into the flames, screaming ‘The Burrow’ in his mind.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole this dance from the tv show Reign. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNwYvNJUSxQ

“That was incredibly stupid,” Hermione huffed as they landed (thankfully) in the living room of the Burrow. “There’s no evidence that you can travel by floo without declaring your location out loud.”

Ron laughed, kissing her on the cheek. “Well, there is now.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “That was so dangerous, though. Why didn’t you apparate us?”

Harry blinked. He hadn’t even considered it. “I wasn’t thinking,” Harry admitted. “But anyway, the last time we did that without warning, Ron ended up splinched.”

“I don’t fancy experiencing that again,” Ron said, rubbing his shoulder.

Hermione kept grumbling as they joined George, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley at the table for lunch.

“How did it go, Harry?” Ginny asked curiously.

Harry shrugged, as he scooped up a fussy Teddy from Ginny’s arms. “I’m on the team.”

Ron let out a low whistle. “You should have seen him. I’ve never seen you duel like that. Robards really didn’t hold back.”

Harry blushed, and turned his attention to feeding Teddy, who was impatiently shoving his fingers into his mouth.

“Seriously, Harry. I’ve never seen magic like it,” Hermione commented as she buttered her bread. “When did you get so good at wandless magic?”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s easier to control than the Elder Wand.”

“Only you would complain that the Elder Wand is too powerful,” George chuckled.

Mrs. Weasley was frowning. “I know that Robards wouldn’t put you on the team if he wasn’t absolutely sure that you were ready, but I don’t like the idea of you being out facing those Death Eaters.”

Harry opened her mouth to reassure her but was surprisingly interrupted by Hermione. “He’s already a target for them, Mrs. Weasley. I fancy his chances better if he’s surrounded by a team of trained aurors,” she said calmly.

Harry grinned at her. “I’ll try my hardest to stay safe, Molly,” he placated.

“I suppose you’re right. As much as I hate to admit it, you’re not little kids anymore,” Mrs. Weasley harrumphed.

“Ginny’s still sixteen,” Ron said cheekily, ducking to avoid the mash potatoes that flew across the table.

When they got home, Kreacher greeted them and offered to take their coats. “Master Malfoy is wondering if Master is available.”

“Of course,” Harry said, fighting to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Hermione and Ron took Teddy upstairs as Kreacher opened the floo and went to get some tea.

“Hey,” Harry said quietly when Malfoy appeared. He did not look well – he seemed even paler than usual and had large dark circles under his eyes. “How are you?”

Malfoy sat down on the couch with none of his usual grace. “She only just went to sleep,” he grunted, covering his face.

“What wrong with her?” Harry asked, trying not to sound too indelicate.

Malfoy shrugged. “She’s destroyed her mental walls. She can’t compartmentalise anymore. It’s like she’s reliving all of her memories at once.”

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Malfoy waved him off. “Not your fault,” he grunted, gratefully accepting a cup of tea from Kreacher.

Harry didn’t want to argue with him, but he was fairly sure it was his fault. “Still.”

“I saw the paper. You did well today,” Malfoy abruptly changed the subject. “I wasn’t expecting there to be quite that much press. I should send Ambarella flowers. Did you get the job?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I meet the team tomorrow.”

“Exciting,” Malfoy smiled genuinely. He turned thoughtful. “I wonder how the people will react.”

“Why does it matter?” Harry asked, but quickly thought better. “Sorry, I know it does.”

Malfoy nodded approvingly. “You’re learning, Potter.” Malfoy sat up properly now, having downed his tea at an inhuman rate. “How was the Manor?”

Harry grinned. “It was fantastic! You should see it – its huge. The elves are really nice. Apparently, I have a Pegasai – can you believe it? I want to move there as soon as possible.”

“You should,” Malfoy said. “If it’s possible, you should host the Pledge and the Ball there. I assume you have a Ballroom?” he drawled aristocratically.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes. When is all this happening, by the way?”

Malfoy stretched his neck. “The Pledge will have to be before the 15th – that’s when the first Old Council meeting will be. Midsomer is on the 20th, so you can host your ball the night before. I’ve already arranged catering and entertainment, but I’ll have to organise the other stuff with your elves. We should send the invitations by the end of this week. I’ll have to go through the etiquette with Granger, Weasley and you before then. You’ll need a date for both the meeting and the ball. Do you have anyone in mind? They’ll need plenty of warning.”

“What’s the Old Council?” Harry asked. “Neville mentioned something about the Old Crowd. Is that the same thing?”

Malfoy nodded. “The Old Council are the heads of the Families. The Sacred 28, essentially. It meets once a month, except for in war time. I’ve been a few times as an heir but this is the first time I’ll go as a Head. There’s a meeting for about an hour, which is dedicated to politics and magic. Essentially, everybody decides how they’ll vote in upcoming matters of state. This month will probably be about the Statute of Secrecy and the Dementor’s Kiss.”

Harry shuddered. There was a proposed bill that all of the Death Eaters that were convicted will be sentenced to death by Dementor’s Kiss. Harry wasn’t sure how to feel. His first instinct was to be vehemently against it. It was a horrible fate, and not one he would wish on anyone. On the other hand, these were witches and wizards that had not only killed for Voldemort’s cause but enjoyed it. They had destroyed so many lives, including his own.

“Why would we discuss the Statute of Secrecy?” he asked, not wanting to think about the Dementors any longer than strictly necessary.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’ve not heard. It’s all anyone can talk about. Dumbledore proposed that it be removed.”

“Why?” he asked, shocked.

Malfoy shrugged. “According to Dumbledore, we should work with the muggles. Use their knowledge and power to develop and introduce them to magic so that they can develop too.”

“But that’s bonkers,” Harry said. “It’s all well and good in theory, but we can’t do that. They’ll want the magic for themselves.” He was surprised to hear his voice say all that, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew it was true. “There’ll be another war.”

Malfoy smirked. “I’m pleased you think so. I wouldn’t worry about it – it’ll never pass. We’ve been talking about it for twenty years. You won’t like the other side of the argument, though,” he warned. “Some of the Old Crowd want to bring back the Blood Laws.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “The ones where they take muggleborns away from their parents?”

Malfoy nodded. “I don’t think that’ll pass either, especially after the war.”

Harry sighed. “Why can’t there be a happy medium?”

“You want to try to come up with something that both sides will agree on?” Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow. “I admire your tenacity, Potter, but I don’t fancy your chances.”

Harry shrugged. “So, what do we do next?”

Malfoy stood up and grimaced. “Next, we visit your manor.”

Ron, Hermione, Harry, Teddy and Malfoy were soon standing on the grassy knoll that faced Potter Manor. Harry turned to Malfoy, who was looking green.

“Come in, Malfoy,” he said, revealing the castle that he was about to call home.

Malfoy nodded, still white, and followed the trio silently to the front gate. Roslyn was waiting for them.

“Master!” she cried happily. “I am glad you came back.”

Harry ducked his head. “Thanks, Roslyn. This is Draco Malfoy,” he said, gesturing to the blond.

Roslyn smiled as she took their coats. “Pleasure to meet you, Master Malfoy,” she said, curtseying. She grimaced slightly but tried to hide it. “I have met many of your elves. The Malfoy family are neighbours to the Potters.”

Malfoy barked out a laughed. “You’ll be glad to hear my father is no longer around to mistreat his house-elves, Roslyn.”

The elf had the decency to blush but lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Master Malfoy.”

“I like her,” Malfoy said to Harry, his face returning to its normal colour. Harry grinned, feeling proud of his elf. Turning to Roslyn, Malfoy continued. “Potter intends to move into this house. Is it ready?”

Roslyn nodded. “We have converted the secondary Principle Bedroom into a nursery for baby Teddy. There is a connecting door to Master Harry’s rooms, and there is plenty of space for him to grow up.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy nodded. “Can I see the ballroom? Potter will be hosting a ball for Midsomer’s. I’m sorry we’re only giving you limited warning.”

Roslyn squeaked a little, but nodded, leading them up the grand staircase into the hall of mirrors and through to a large but empty room with a few steps leading to a small stage at the rear. Malfoy nodded approvingly. Roslyn smiled. “We haven’t had a ball in so long!” she said excitedly. “I’ll get Hokka to start preparing the grounds. You will need bonfires, yes?”

Malfoy nodded. “Make sure there’s a pond or fountain nearby the bonfires. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” At Harry’s confused look, he explained. “On Midsomer’s, everyone writes their wish for the year on a piece of paper and places it in the bonfires. At midnight, the fires go out, and every collects a piece of charcoal, which you wear for the rest of the month to bring good luck to you in the coming year.”

“That’s a lovely tradition,” Hermione commented. “Does it actually work?”

Malfoy hesitated. “It certainly makes your magic more powerful when you wear your beads. Your wish doesn’t always come true – that’d be impossible – but sometimes it does.”

“I wished that you and Harry could come to the Quidditch World Cup with us in Fourth Year. I was certain his muggles would say no,” Ron offered. “The next year, I decided to be a bit more vague.”

Harry shrugged. “It was fun at the beginning.”

“A lot of our adventures were fun at the beginning,” Hermione joked.

Malfoy turned to Roslyn. “There’ll be a 30-piece orchestra, which can go up there,” he indicated to the platform. “In terms of food, we’ll only be needing light refreshments, which can be served outside. I’ll organise some tents.”

Roslyn nodded. “This wall can be removed,” she suggested, waving a hand at a wall covered in mirrors. The wall melted into the ground, pooling before forming into a delicate marble staircase that led down to the gardens.

“Excellent,” Malfoy complimented. “Do you have enough space in the stables to host the carriages?”

Roslyn frowned, but nodded. “Hokka can extend them. How many guests?”

Malfoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We need to sort out the guest list. More than two hundred, definitely. I shouldn’t think more than three.”

Harry looked at him in surprise. “Two hundred people? I don’t know a hundred people!”

“Of course you do.” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You’ll need to invite the Sacred 28, and all of the people that belong to those Houses. Not to mention your connections at the ministry, a few representatives of the press, and all of your friends.”

Harry looked at him with trepidation. “I don’t know, Malfoy,” Harry said, biting his lip. “I don’t even know how to dance.”

Malfoy nodded. “I’ll teach you. You too, Granger, Weasley. Speaking of, you’ll need a date who can dance. Who are you taking?”

Harry sighed. Hermione would go with Ron, and he was sure Ginny would ask Wilda Griffiths, her on-again, off-again hook up from the Holyhead Harpies. Luna would be going with Neville, no doubt. “I don’t really have anyone to take. Can’t I just go stag?”

Malfoy considered for a moment. “Yes, as long as you dance with a few eligible witches and wizards. It might be good, actually. That way no one can cast aspersions, but you can lift the reputation of certain families. You’ll definitely need a date for the Meeting, though,” he warned.

Harry turned to Ron. “Can I take Hermione?”

“Excuse me,” Hermione interjected. “I’m right here. Ron’s not my keeper.”

Ron smirked. “Nope, I’m not. No one would be able to keep you, anyway,” he smiled, kissing her on the cheek.

“I’d love to come, Harry,” she said, pointedly ignoring her boyfriend. “It’ll be fascinating.”

“Fair warning, Granger: you will not be allowed to speak during the meeting. No matter what anybody says. Only the Heads can speak,” Malfoy warned. “Do you think you can keep quiet?” he asked, doubtful.

Hermione nodded indignantly. “Of course I can, Malfoy.”

Malfoy sighed, but shrugged. “If you’re sure.” He turned to Roslyn. “Can she borrow the Potter jewels?”

Roslyn smiled. “You will look beautiful, Mistress Hermione,” she said quietly.

Harry was surprised to hear he had jewels, although he was starting to think being surprised was fairly commonplace around Draco Malfoy.

“Alright, let’s begin,” Malfoy said, removing his outer robe. Harry passed Teddy to Roslyn, who began playing with him on the floor. “This is called the Dance of the Fae. We’ll do it without music first so that you can all get the hang of it. You weren’t too bad at the Yule Ball, Granger, you can demonstrate with me.”  
Malfoy walked slowly towards Hermione and held out his hand and he bowed, almost kissing her fingertips. “Weasley, Potter, notice that I’m bowing from my hips. My head, neck and back are all in a straight line. It’s not a dramatic bow, either, just a shallow one. Think of it as having your eyes at their breast.”

Hermione and Ron went pink, but Harry couldn’t stop staring at Malfoy’s jawline as he rose from his bow and raised his left hand. “Mirror me, Granger.” Malfoy and Hermione’s hands faced each other but didn’t touch. They walked slowly in a circle. “1 and 2 and 3 and,” Malfoy counted, before they switched hands and directions.

“Okay, now raise your left hand above your head. Not straight, Granger, just delicately. Okay, now we touch fingers. The music will change here. Now we waltz,” Malfoy instructed. “Resist the temptation to look down. It’s much easier to dance if you aren’t looking at your feet.”

Hermione lasted four steps before glancing down at her feet. “Granger, eyes up,” Malfoy admonished. “I’ll say it out loud. Back, back, left, left, forward, forward. See, easy,” he said, doing the opposite with his feet. “You only have to do it for 12 counts, anyway.” He released her fingers and closed the gap between their other hands. With a flick of her wrist, she twirled out. “Go under my arm,” Malfoy said. “Now, pull my hand across your body to your waist.”

Hermione did as instructed, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “What now?” she demanded.

“Hands on my shoulders,” Malfoy said, as he held her waist, lifting her easily and turning in a circle. When he returned her safely to the ground, he murmured, “Go with me, Granger,” and dipped her backwards, one hand on the back of her neck. When they returned to standing, Hermione was bright pink. “Right, that’s the first half,” Malfoy said. “Weasley, Potter, your turn.”

Hermione half-ran into Ron’s arms. “Who will Harry dance with?” Hermione finally said, finding her voice.

“Me,” Malfoy shrugged. “I’ll be _la femme.”_

Harry gulped, but was half-glad he didn’t have to dance with Hermione – he wasn’t sure Ron’s nerves could take it.

“Right,” Malfoy started. “Bow to your partner,” he instructed. Harry felt heat rising to his cheeks but was determined to not give Malfoy the satisfaction of him failing.

Harry, making sure to keep his back straight, leant over Malfoy’s hand. His lips were so close to them, he could also taste the vanilla and sandalwood hand cream he had seen the man use at his kitchen table.

Malfoy wasn’t looking at him. “Good, Potter. Weasley, back straight.” Harry rose, trying not to feel too pleased about the praise. Harry raised his left hand without waiting for Malfoy to tell him. “Good, Potter,” Malfoy muttered, clearly surprised.

“My memory isn’t that shoddy, you know.” Harry quirked an eyebrow. Malfoy smirked as they switched hands. Harry watched as Malfoy followed his lead so gracefully, and he let his thoughts run wild as he prowled forward. Momentarily distracted, he almost forgot to raise his hand above his head as they completed the circle.

Malfoy’s fingers were cool in his palm as they started the waltz. Harry happened to know vaguely what to do here, having been Neville’s reluctant partner a few times prior to the Yule Ball, but had only danced the lead once. He held his breath as he remembered the steps. Forward, forward, right, right, back, back, he thought, refusing to look down. Malfoy smirked as they kept their eyes locked.

He released their fingers and Harry spun him out, perhaps a touch more forcefully than he should have. Malfoy took it in his stride and continued the twirl under Harry’s arm without prompting. Pulling Harry’s hand to his waist, Malfoy held his breath. Harry could feel the blond’s hip bones jutting out from his torso. Lifting Malfoy was easier than lifting a broomstick, but the move brought their closer together than any fight had at school. Harry could feel Malfoy’s cool breath on his lips.

Before he could chicken out, Harry lifted a hand to the back of Malfoy’s head, memorising the feeling the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and leant forward. Malfoy was soft beneath his body, and went easily as Harry dipped him, like putty in his hands.

They were both breathless when they stood up, and Harry had to blink a few times to clear his thoughts from Draco Malfoy’s red lips and flushed cheeks contrasting with his pale skin.

“Ow, Ron,” Hermione laughed as Ron stepped on her foot, again. Their playful argument dragged Harry from his thoughts.

Malfoy groaned. “Weasley, come and dance with me. Granger and Potter can dance together.”

Ron spluttered. “Fuck off, Malfoy. I’m not dancing with you.”

“By all means, embarrass yourself and your girlfriend, who is way out of your league, by the way,” Malfoy sneered. Ron scowled, but it was enough for him to begrudgingly place Hermione’s hand in Harry’s.

As Hermione and Harry danced, Harry couldn’t help but glance at Ron and Malfoy. The green monster that resided in his chest was pleased to notice that Malfoy was holding Ron much further away than he had Harry.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, getting his attention the third or fourth time Harry glanced over at the other couple. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

Harry sucked in a breath. “I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered back stubbornly, keeping his eyes resolutely on Hermione for the rest of the round.

They practised for half an hour before Malfoy determined that they were advanced enough to learn the second half of the dance.

“The next bit we do is essentially a grapevine. Potter, Weasley, you will be on your partner’s left, holding their hand with your right. We stand in a circle,” Malfoy instructed, grabbing Harry’s hand and pulling him so that they were standing opposite Hermione and Ron.

As a group, they poorly managed to do a very basic grapevine (or shuffle, in Ron’s case) to the right. “Again,” Malfoy said, moving in the opposite direction. Harry resisted the urge to look at his partner.

“Good, now, Potter reach for Granger’s hand and spin her so that you swap places,” Malfoy said, and grimaced before continuing. “After, we will do the same,” he said to Ron. Ron winced, but did as he was told.

As soon as Malfoy was returned to Harry’s side by a disgruntled Ron, he reached for the blond’s hand. Malfoy took it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Turn to face your partner,” he said. “Boys, with your left hand, hold their right above your head, like you did before. Granger, reach behind your back with your other hand and find Weasley’s.” As he spoke, he placed his other hand delicately in Harry’s. “Now, waltz,” he instructed.

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. Without glancing down, he moved through the motions of a waltz, keeping his eyes on Malfoys. This new position required them to be much closer, and Harry let a smile grace his lips as he stared into the pools of silver that were Malfoy’s eyes. Malfoy released on of his hands. “Now, with the hand that was behind your back, Granger, move to hold hand through the diamond that your arms make in front of your face.”

Harry didn’t have to think through the steps with Malfoy as his partner, and they kept moving in a waltz as they joined hands in a far more intimate way. “Untangle your arms,” Malfoy said. “Gracefully,” he added, wincing at Ron and Hermione’s attempt. He sighed. “We’ll work on it. Granger, left hand on Weasley’s neck. Weasley, Potter, two hands on the back of your partner’s waist and lift and turn,” Malfoy said, smiling as Harry effortlessly lifted him again.

“Okay, now, put your right hand on the other’s cheek,” Malfoy said, looking hesitantly at Harry. Harry wanted to touch as much of Malfoy’s body as he was allowed, so he reached for Malfoy’s cheek first. His jaw was taught, as if he were clenching it, and Harry could feel a light amount of stubble. Malfoy lightly touched Harry’s cheek, and Harry wanted to do this forever. They walked in a circle. After a moment, Malfoy told them to spin away from their partner. Harry did as he was bid, although he savoured the feeling of Malfoy’s face in his hand for a millisecond longer than he should have. When they faced each other again, Malfoy smiled brightly at him.

“And that’s almost it,” Malfoy said. “Just bow, and Granger, you and I curtsey.”

Harry bowed low over Malfoy’s hand, his eyes not leaving the blond’s even for a moment. Malfoy’s cheeks were slightly pink as he ducked his head in a delicate imitation of a curtsey.

Harry cleared his throat as he looked away. Ron and Hermione were gazing at each other in a way that Harry had never see them do before. Ron closed the distance between their lips and planted a sweet lingering kiss on her lips. Malfoy and Harry glanced at each other, and both looked away with embarrassment when their eyes met. 

By the time the five of them returned to Grimmauld Place, they were ravenous, cranky and exhausted. Harry had given Kreacher the evening off in an attempt to improve the elf’s spirits before he told him of his plans to move out. Harry sighed, wondering if he could be bothered to cook, but ultimately decided on takeout.

Harry had only had takeout a few times in his life, but he revelled in it, as it always featured in his favourite memories. Nights when the Dursley’s went out for dinner, and Harry would scrape around underneath the couch pillows for a few coins, order some pizza or some Indian with the house phone, and watch something on the telly that he wasn’t meant to touch.

Harry was especially fond of Indian food because the Dursley’s hated it, almost more than they hated magic. Harry wondered if it reminded them of his father. The Dursleys had never said anything overtly about his ethnicity, except for one time in primary school, when Dudley had tried to copy one of his friend’s words for Harry’s skin colour. It was the only time Petunia had come to Harry’s defence, although she seemed less concerned for Harry’s wellbeing, and more concerned for Dudley’s reputation. “The Dursley’s are not racist, Duddykins,” she had admonished, although she glanced at Harry with disdain.

Hermione and Ron both loved when they got takeout, so Harry excused himself from the three people in his living room. Hermione and Malfoy were nose-deep in parchment again, and Ron was feeding with Teddy. He ran upstairs to change into muggle clothes. As he made his way to the front door, he paused. “I’ll be back. Do you like spicy food, Malfoy?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Sure,” he said distractedly, his forehead creasing as he read what appeared to be a particularly confusing legal document.

Harry grinned and leisurely walked to the local place, revelling in the cool evening breeze. On his way, he popped into an off-license and bought some chocolate. Years of staring daggers across the Great Hall at Malfoy fortunately meant that Harry was quite knowledgeable of the man’s taste in food. No matter the occasion, Malfoy would nearly always be eating chocolate, and Harry suspected he hadn’t eaten it in a while.

He blushed when he realised what he was doing, buying chocolates that he knew Malfoy specifically would like. He might as well be buying roses. Is that what he was doing? Was he really attempting to seduce Draco Malfoy?

Harry gulped, remembering the magical dance they had shared that afternoon. Yes, he was. He was seducing Draco Malfoy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things:  
> Firstly - thank you for all the lovely comments! I've never written this much of a story before, and I have to say I hit a bit of writer's block this week. Your comments helped a lot.  
> Secondly - I've decided to rename the work from 'Strange Bedfellows' to 'Mos Maiorum'. It's a Latin term for the unwritten code from which the ancient Romans derived their social norms. It essentially means 'Do the Right Thing', which, for the Romans, was to obey and continue to uphold tradition. I'm a history nerd and found it in one of my readings for uni. It definitely fits the story much better. Also, there is another story on AO3 called 'Strange Bedfellows', which, admittedly, I haven't read but is undoubtedly much better than my writing.  
> Thirdly - speaking of uni, I'm really sorry it took me so long to update. I have had a bucket load of assignments to do - to be honest, I still have a lot of work to do but I wanted to procrastinate. If only research essays were as easy to write as silly fanfictions.  
> Fourthly - goodness! Sorry, I promise I'll be done with the author's note soon. I just wanted to add that I think I'm going to pivot slightly and make Harry a bit darker than I originally intended. He's too vanilla-y and fluffy for my liking.   
> Fifthly - last one I promise! If anyone, anywhere, would be interested in beta-ing, please let me know! I am really rubbish at writing, but I want this to be good. It's going to be a big fic. But, no need to commit! Just one chapter would be very very helpful.   
> Thank you for reading this far!
> 
> P.S. Also, I know next to nothing about Indian culture, but this is what I gathered from my friend from Ludhiana, Punjab, the other day when we were having a similar-ish conversation the other day. Please let me know if this is incorrect.

“Oh brilliant, I’m starving,” Ron said as he swapped the bag of curries, rice and naan from Harry’s hand with his gurgling black-haired godson.

“Hiya Teddy,” Harry greeted, whooshing him through the air. The infant made grabby hands towards the food. “Sorry, love, you’re too little for that. But we’ll have lots of curry when you’re older,” Harry promised.

They made their way into the living room, and Ron started to unpack the food, summoning some cutlery from the kitchen.

Malfoy looked up in surprise. “We’re eating in here? Why? You have a perfectly good dining table in the kitchen.”

Ron groaned as he stretched out on the floor. “But I’m comfortable here,” he complained. “And the kitchen is so far away.”

“I’ve never eaten on the floor before,” Malfoy said absently.

Harry shrugged. “We can move to the kitchen if you’d be more comfortable,” he suggested, ignoring Ron’s incredulous look.

Malfoy blinked, looking at Harry with surprise. “No, this is good,” he said quietly.

Harry summoned a few glasses and the elvish wine from the kitchen wordlessly. Hermione raised an eyebrow as he poured but said nothing.

“Did you know elvish wine changes into whatever best suits the meal?” Malfoy said conversationally, clearly feeling a touch uncomfortable.

Hermione nodded. “The brewing process is fascinating – nothing like muggle wine,” she commented.

Malfoy took his glass and sniffed it. “Dry Riesling.” He glanced at Harry. “Potter, I know you’re probably the richest seventeen-year-old in the wizarding world, but you should know that elvish wine goes for an awful amount of money. It’s probably not appropriate to waste it on take-out,” he drawled.

Harry’s cheeks lit up. He’d only been trying to impress Malfoy and he didn’t have any wine in the house. Malfoy didn’t strike Harry as a beer person.

Before Harry could … apologise? defend his decision?, Hermione smiled and raised her glass. “True, but we’re celebrating. Harry got his dream job, and you’re having your very first meal on a living room floor,” she said drily.

Malfoy laughed. “That’s true. Cheers to us,” he said, clinking his glass with Harry’s. “Salut!”

Harry swallowed. “Cheers,” he said, blushing. After a beat, he turned to Hermione. “How do you say cheers in Hindi?” he asked.

To his surprise, Malfoy answered. “People just say ‘cheers’, from memory. Sometimes people offer some of their drink to their ancestors, by pouring a small amount into something natural nearby. Like a plant, a flowerpot, fire, or something.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked curiously. “Have you been to India?”

Malfoy shrugged. “No, but most pureblood children learn how to drink in other cultures, especially if they are the cultures of the other Sacred 28. As your elf said, the Malfoys and Potters have always been neighbours. It is only natural that the Potters would learn a bit of French and the Malfoys would learn a bit of Hindi.”

“Oh,” Harry said, taken aback. “Sorry, I don’t know any French,” Harry admitted.

Malfoy looked at him strangely. “Of course you don’t. You weren’t raised by Potters. Why would you feel the need to apologise?”

“I have a question,” Hermione said abruptly. “Malfoy and Potter… Etymologically speaking, the names are very British.”

Malfoy nodded. “Traditionally, we were de Malfoie. The Potters were Purohit. I guess both families decided to anglicise when they moved to Britain.”

“Do you speak French at home?” Hermione asked curiously.

Malfoy paused. “We did when I was a child. Mother wanted me to be fluent in English before I got to Hogwarts, though, so I wasn’t allowed to after I turned 8 until I got my letter. I spoke French at home during my Hogwarts years, but erm… not at the end.”

Ron cleared his throat, clearly wanting to change the subject. “The Weasley’s are Australian,” he declared. “G’day mate,” he cried in an atrocious attempt at an Australian accent.

They laughed and Harry glanced at the bottle of wine, and poured a little in the cap. “Do I have to say anything?”

“Who do you want to toast?” Malfoy asked.

Harry shrugged. “My mum and dad I guess. And Sirius and Remus.”

“मेरी माँ और पिता और मेरे गॉडफादर सीरियस और रेमुस को,” Malfoy translated. “That’s definitely not fully correct, but it’s my best guess. I’m sure your elves will be able to speak Hindi better.”

Harry smiled. “It’s better than I could do,” he said, and turned to the fireplace. “मेरी माँ और पिता और मेरे गॉडफादर सीरियस और रेमुस को,” he repeated, wincing at his butchering of the language. He spilled the wine into the hearth. Nothing magical happened, but Harry’s heart lifted a bit, knowing that his parents were still with him. “Thank you,” he said quietly to Malfoy.

Several hours, three chess games, and two bottles of elvish wine later, Ron was on the floor roaring with laughter as Hermione shot-gunned a beer. Malfoy looked at her with thinly veiled disgust.

“How can you drink it like that?” Malfoy asked.

Ron shrugged. “You should see a shoey, mate,” he laughed in the same horrible accent as before, smacking Malfoy on the back.

Malfoy looked shocked but smiled slightly at Ron’s clear acceptance of his presence. Harry grinned. If Malfoy and Ron could get along, anything was possible.

“Alright,” Malfoy said wearily. “How do I ‘shotgun’ this?” he asked, picking up a can wearily.

Hermione laughed. “I thought you didn’t like beer.”

“I hate it. But, there’s no wine left, and your … technique seems to make the feral liquid go down faster.” Malfoy grimaced.

Hermione giggled, but dutifully showed Malfoy how to hold the bottle as she pierced it. “It creates an air bubble, see?” she asked. Trust Hermione to explain the science behind a drinking method.

Malfoy managed to down half of the can before he started spluttering. His eyes were bright as he looked at Harry. Harry couldn’t hear what he was saying, however, too distracted by the sight of Malfoy. He looked dishevelled, but in the best possible way, with flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and the first few buttons of his shirt undone, exposing his long neck.

“Hmm?” Harry said after a minute. Hermione was clicking her fingers in front of his face.

Malfoy laughed. It was the sound of honey again. “Honestly, Potter. It’s truly a wonder you paid enough attention to the Dark Lord in order to defeat him,” he drawled. He chucked a can at Harry. “It’s your turn.”

Harry frowned, looking at the can. He couldn’t help but think it probably wasn’t wise to drink this much the night before his first day at work.

“Scared, Potter?” Malfoy smirked at Harry’s hesitation. His voice was so familiar, and baited Harry in just the right way.

“You wish, Malfoy,” Harry said, although his voice had none of the bite it usually had. He turned the can on its side, pierced it, and tipped it up, swallowing the burning liquid quickly.

When he pulled away, Malfoy was staring at him with hooded eyes, but quickly blinked and looked away, as Ron cheered and Hermione suggested they play a card game.

The next morning, Harry woke up with the worst headache he’d ever had. For a moment, he forgot that Voldemort was dead and raised his mental shields, not wanting to let the bastard back into his head. “Ugh,” he groaned, realising it was simply a fierce hangover from the night before.

He was lying on the floor in his living room. Glancing up, he could see Malfoy peacefully asleep on the couch next to him. Harry moved so that he could see the blond better. He smiled in his sleep, and the forehead creases that Harry was so familiar with place had softened. His blond hair was in a messy bun again on the top of his head, but a few strands had fallen out of the tie and on to his face.

Harry held his breath as he gently brushed the pieces back with his finger. Malfoy stirred but didn’t wake.

Hermione walked in but paused in the doorway when she saw Harry. Harry blushed at her as he quickly stepped away from the couch.

She smiled and pulled Harry into a hug. “You know it doesn’t matter, right? I know some muggles don’t like it, but wizards and witches are generally accepting,” she murmured.

“I know,” Harry whispered, his cheeks still red. He wanted to deny it but knew it would be pointless. “Thanks ‘Mione. It’s Malfoy, though.”

“No offence, Harry, but you’ve been obsessed with him for forever. I could have told you when we were fifteen,” she grinned and dragged him into the kitchen, where Ron was buttering some toast.

Ron passed Harry a small bottle. “Fred and George’s hangover cure. It’ll sober you up in five minutes. Fair warning: it’s not pleasant.”

Harry grimaced, but downed it in one. Instantly, steam that smelled of stale booze started billowing out of his ears and nose, a bit like pepper-up potion. It was far worse, however, and felt like his brain was falling out of his head. “Five minutes of this?” he cried.

“Yeah. Better than Jiggers’ for sure, but still not fantastic. George and I are working on it,” Ron said. Hermione and Ron resumed their conversation on their plans for the day while Harry waited for the potion to finish.

When the horrible sensation stopped, his headache had completely vanished, his mouth tasted like peppermint, and his teeth felt clean. Harry felt a lot better. “Thanks, Ron. You guys are going into Diagon Alley?” he asked curiously.

Ron nodded. “George asked me to go to the flat and pack it all up. He’s going to move back in there with Lee, but doesn’t want all the reminders, you know?” He glanced down at his toast, furiously blinking.

“I’m going with him,” Hermione said, correctly interpreting Harry’s concerned face. “We’ll do it together.”

Harry nodded. “I don’t know how long this thing with the Aurors will take, but I’ll come afterwards.”

“Sorry, Weasley,” Malfoy drawled from the doorway. “But you’ve just gotten an owl from Kingsley, Potter. He needs you this afternoon.”

Harry sighed, but nodded wearily. “Did he say what we’ll be doing?”

Malfoy swallowed. “Erm, you need to help with interrogations,” he said quietly, instantly dropping his aristocratic tone.

Hermione visibly shuddered. “I’m sorry, Harry. That won’t be fun,” she commented.

“Won’t be fun for the death eater, either,” Ron muttered. “Dad told me about the interrogations. It sounds awful.”

Malfoy sat down next to Harry. “It was,” he said quietly. “But nothing less than what was deserved,” he said with determination.

“You’re not like the rest of them, Malfoy,” Harry said fiercely. “You were a child.”

“We all were. You didn’t try to kill the leader of the light side,” Malfoy said darkly. He cleared his throat. “Did I hear something about a hangover cure?” he asked brightly, attempting to change the subject. “I should really be getting back to mother.”

Malfoy downed the potion proffered by Ron. Smoke blew out of the blond’s ears, but, somehow, he still managed to look dignified. When the potion’s effects seemed to have dissipated, he nodded his thanks and rose from the table. “Well, I can’t say I ever thought I’d be getting drunk and eating Indian with the Golden Trio, but it was actually quite enjoyable,” he drawled.

“Malfoy – “Harry grabbed the sleeve of Malfoys arm but paused, not sure what to say. “Your mother – she grew up here, yes?”

The wizard arched an eyebrow but nodded once.

“Do you think it’d be good for her if she moved in here?” Harry asked in a rush. “It’s just because, well, Hermione, Ron and I are moving into the manor, and you mentioned you’re in a safe house. And technically this is your mum’s home. Also, I’m worried that Kreacher will go mental if he’s not serving anybody…” Harry trailed off, realising he’d been rambling.

Malfoy frowned and said nothing for a moment. “Are you aware, Potter, how many darke objects remain in this house?” he asked quietly.

Harry blinked. He had not thought those were going to be the next words out of Malfoy’s mouth – he’d imagined it was going to be more along the lines of ‘Fuck off, Potter.’ He shrugged. “I have no idea,” he answered truthfully.

“Thirty-seven,” Malfoy said shortly.

Harry frowned. He had thought that they had removed most of them in fifth year. “I understand. Dark magic is probably not fantastic for your mother’s recovery. I can have them removed, though.”

Malfoy frowned. “I- no, that’s not what I meant. Potter, you are aware that I and my mother, were death eaters?” he asked sardonically. “I assumed when you left me here unsupervised the other day that you had a momentary lapse in judgement. No, actually, I thought that you had left me on purpose and Aurors were waiting for me to seek out one of the objects. Are you telling me that you left an armed death eater, inside your house, which is home to several powerful dark objects, without a contingency plan?” he ranted.

Harry looked at him in surprise. “You thought I was testing you,” he said after a minute.

“Of course,” Malfoy said nonchalantly. “It’s what any sane person would do. Bloody Gryffindor,” he added the last bit under his breath.

“Well, did you?” Harry asked.

Malfoy looked up sharply.

“Did you?” Harry asked again. “Did you seek out the darke objects?”

Malfoy scoffed. “Do you think I’d tell you if I had?” he challenged.

Harry shrugged. “Can I trust you?” he asked quietly. It came out gruffer than he had meant it to, but one look into Malfoy’s wild eyes told him it was necessary. “Tell me. Can I trust you?” he asked again, but this time it was more of a demand.

Something shifted in the air. The magic that swirled around him didn’t feel like his usual out-of-control magic, although it still felt familiar. It felt older – almost ancient.

Malfoy gasped and fell to one knee. He lowered his eyes. “I did not seek out the darke objects, my lord,” Malfoy clearly wanted to stop talking there, but the magic in the air forced him to continue. “I don’t trust myself not to, though. I have always been drawn to the dark,” he added quietly after a minute.

The magic swirled around Harry for a moment. “I know.” The magic instantly settled. Harry and Malfoy were both left panting. Hermione and Ron jumped up from the table quickly.

“What the hell was that?” Ron asked.

Hermione swallowed thickly. “The life debt. Malfoy pledged his allegiance to Harry. Harry accidentally called on it when he ordered him to answer.”

Harry sat shakily on a seat. Malfoy was still kneeling. Harry ran a hand through his hair. “You can get up,” he said softly, unsure if the magic that compelled Malfoy to kneel needed his permission. Malfoy stood up slowly. “For the record, Malfoy, I am, too,” Harry said after a minute.

Ron snorted. “Understatement of the century. You’re like a niffler in Gringotts when it comes to dark magic.”

The tension in the room eased slightly, but Malfoy still looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt. “I didn’t mean to call on the life debt magic,” he said.

Malfoy smirked shakily. “I know. You’re too much of a Gryffindor.” He sighed as he sat down. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I expected it to happen sooner, actually. The magic is confused. I promised to help teach you the Old Ways, and I am, but I also pledged to be of service to you – instead I’ve mostly been telling you what to do.” He paused, and then added. “I’m also leaving out a particularly significant part of the Old Ways in my lessons, and the magic has noticed.”

At Harry’s confused look, Hermione explained softly. “The Dark Arts.”

“You telling me what to do is of service to me,” Harry said quietly.

Malfoy nodded. “And the magic understands that. Mostly. It doesn’t help that I insult you a lot.”

“But that’s just … what we do,” Harry said. “I insult you back.”

Malfoy nodded. “It’s okay, Potter. You’ll just need to boss me around sometimes so that the magic doesn’t get too cranky.” At Harry’s worried look, he rolled his eyes. “Just little things. Get me a cup of tea, Get me my coat.” Harry did not like the sound of that at all.

“I’ve been doing some research, actually,” Hermione piped up. Ron and Harry worked to hide their grins. Harry could have sworn he saw Malfoy’s lip twitch, too. “I think you’ll need to teach Harry some of the Dark Arts.”

Malfoy inhaled sharply and shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t control myself around Dark magic.”

To Harry’s surprise, Ron was the one who answered. “What if you were to just explain the theory bit of it? You don’t have to actually be near it. Like Umbridge’s Defence classes.”

“That- that might work, actually,” Malfoy said after a moment’s consideration. “I don’t like it, but the magic will certainly be easier to manage if I do.” He turned to Harry. “And- and if you can find a way to get rid of, or lock away the darke objects in this house, my mother and I will move here. It was a very kind offer, and I do think it would help settle her mind. Thank you.”

Harry nodded once. He turned to Ron. “Do you think Bill would be down for a bit of curse-breaking?”

Ron smirked. “Always.”

Half an hour later, Malfoy had disappeared through the floo, and Harry was holding a handful of green powder, nervously fingering the hem of his brand new auror robes (that had somehow appeared in his wardrobe yesterday) with his other hand. “The DMLE,” he said, not willing to face the crowds of that had been in the atrium the day before. "Good luck with the flat," he said to Ron before stepping into the flames.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry winced as he stepped through the DMLE’s training room floo, feeling several wards break. He stumbled.

“Merlin’s baggy pants, Potter,” Robards growled. “If you wanted to avoid the crowds, just ask to be keyed in next time. Just because you can break protective wards doesn’t mean you should.”

Harry felt appropriately admonished. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’ll help you fix it.”

“You’d better, young man,” Robards grumbled.

There were five other aurors in the room, but Harry only recognised two of them. Proudfoot and Savage had been stationed at Hogsmeade with Tonks in his sixth year and had come to Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Their names had been listed along with those who fought at the Battle, but Harry didn’t remember seeing them. They’d also been at Tonks’ funeral.

“Good to see you again, Potter,” Pengfei Proudfood said as he shook his hand.

“Proudfoot, Savage,” Harry greeted. “How are you?”

Aaliyah Savage smiled grimly. “Better now that we have a full team. How are you? How’s Teddy?”

“You know,” Harry returned the expression. His smile brightened as he thought of his godson. “Teddy’s brilliant, though. He’s getting really good and changing his hair colour now. He was so excited when I dropped him off at the Burrow this morning. Had bright red hair.”

Savage grinned genuinely now. “I’d be excited, too, if I could get some of Molly’s cooking. Let me introduce you to the team,” she said, gesturing to the others.

“Mordecai Berrycloth,” a tall, bald wizard with an extremely long red beared said as he reached out his hand. Despite his facial hair – a long beard always reminded Harry of old wizards like Dumbledore – he looked quite young. In his late twenties, maybe. “But everyone calls me Kai. It’s good to meet you, Potter,” he said in a strong American accent. “I’m glad you’ve joined – it means I’m not the newest recruit anymore.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said. “Are you from America?” he asked with interest.

Mordecai nodded and smiled proudly. “I’m from Philly. Auror with MACUSA for five years. I moved to the UK just three weeks ago.”

Harry was aware that Kingsley had advertised some Ministry roles in the US and Europe after the war. The new Minister had attempted to fire half of the ministry for having open connections to and support of Voldemort, but in the end only a few people had left – most supporters of Voldemort having claimed that they had been Imperiused. Personally, Harry reckoned they should’ve made everyone explain their actions in the war under Veritaserum, but according to Hermione and Kingsley, that was very much illegal without sufficient evidence of any illegal activity. And since the harming of muggleborns under Voldemort’s rule wasn’t illegal, there was nothing he could do. The ministry remained as fundamentally flawed as ever.

An older, heavily scarred man nodded at Harry but didn’t reach for his hand. “James Clagg,” he said in a thick Scottish accent. 

“Clagg is our second-in-chief,” Savage explained. “Just came out of retirement.”

Harry nodded back at him. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Clagg harrumphed. “Good, you’ve got manners. Best not to waste them on me, though.” Harry was fondly reminded of Moody.

“Elfrida Whitby,” a middle-aged witch said, shaking his hand. “Call me Elfie.”

Harry frowned. “I recognise the name.”

She nodded. “My son used to go to Hogwarts. Hufflepuff. He’s a fourth year at Beauxbaton’s now.”

“Yeah – he’s friends with Dennis Creevey, right?” Harry asked, the memory of Colin’s death flashing before his eyes.

The witch blinked in surprise. “Good memory. Poor kid. Dennis has been living with us in France since the end of last year. He’s starting Beauxbaton’s this year. Colin got him to us when their parents died.”

Harry sucked in a breath. “I didn’t know their parents died. Colin was- “he choked slightly on the memories. “Too young.”

Elfie nodded grimly. “We tried to get him to come with his brother, but he was too damn stubborn.”

“I’m glad Dennis has you,” Harry said. “Do you know if any more were orphaned?”

The witch sighed sadly. “Presumably hundreds, but I don’t know any personally. The Death Eaters didn’t exactly keep a list of everyone they killed.”

Harry frowned. He’d ask Kingsley this afternoon if he had any ideas.

“Alright,” Robards called from the front of the room, Cragg at his side. They gathered around. “Now that you’ve all met Potter, let’s discuss the plan. Our primary targets are the unaccounted-for Death Eaters Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Jugson, and the Lestrange brothers. Based on witness accounts of recent attacks on a few towns just outside of Little Whinging, Surrey, and some muggle towns near Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, we believe they are working together.”

Harry shuddered. He couldn’t help but spare a thought for his aunt, uncle and cousin. They were abusive and neglectful arseholes, but Dudley had apologised – kind of – and Petunia had done that weird thing when she said she lost a sister when Harry lost a mother. They certainly had quite a bit of nasty karma coming their way, but they didn’t deserve to be the targets of some rogue Death Eaters. He knew the Weasleys were relatively safe in the Burrow, due to the insane amount of Ministry-approved (and not-so-approved) protection spells and wards, but he couldn’t help but worry for them, too.

Robards nodded at Harry. “It doesn’t take a huge amount of detective work to figure out that they are targeting Potter.” Harry felt his ears turn pink, but nobody turned their attention from Robards to look at him. “We’re going to draw them out.”

Elfie frowned. “You’re going to use Potter as bait.” It wasn’t a question. She turned to look at him accusingly. “And I bet it was your idea.”

The witch clearly already knew Harry well enough to read him like a book. Her expression reminded Harry of Hermione and Molly, so he decided to use the same argument on her. “They’re looking for me anyway.”

Kai whistled lowly. “You have a death-wish, kid.”

Robards grunted something that sounded suspiciously like “Dumbledore.” He cleared his throat. “Greyback is holding back information. He is able to resist Veritaserum and has fairly strong occlumency skills. We might be able to get more out of him, but at this moment it looks doubtful. As we do not know where they are, we have to draw them out. We have two options: sting or battle.”

Proudfoot spoke up. “We could definitely pull off a sting, but it would take longer. We’d have to keep Potter’s employment with the Aurors away from public knowledge. Ideally, he’d move back in to his old house and draw them out by walking around visibly unprotected in muggle streets. I don’t know how long it would take before they attempt to jump him, but it would definitely be quite a few weeks. They’d suspect a trap. We would have to be hiding in bushes for months.”

Savage continued. “If we battle, it’ll have to be near Ottery St. Catchpole, where there aren’t as many muggles. Memory modification will be too hard otherwise. Harry should be announced as a member of the team. We’d go on visible patrols. We’d have to stick to a schedule and look disorganised enough that they’d believe they have a chance.”

“Statistics?” Robards asked, turning to Cragg.

The older wizard narrowed his eyes. “Sting: 49% chance of capturing all of them, with 24% fatalities on our side. Battle: 87% chance of capturing all, 61% fatalities.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Neither sounded particularly good. “If some escaped from the sting, what are they likely to do?” he asked.

Elfie answered. “It depends who we get and who we don’t. If we get a Lestrange, the other would be very volatile and wouldn’t wait around to lick his wounds. He’d aim for a public attack with the aim of bringing a lot of people down with him. To a lesser extent it’d be the same with Crabbe and Goyle. It’ll be easy to take them down if they’re angry, but a lot of potentially innocent victims.”

“What’s their motivation?” Robards asked.

“To avenge their lord by bringing down Potter,” Kai answered easily.

Robards waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, but what is their end goal? If they managed to kill Potter, what would they do next?”

“Instil fear in Wizarding Britain again. Gather followers by threats. Try to take over the ministry.” Harry frowned. “They’ll need a leader.”

Robards nodded. “Goyle and Crabbe are lackeys. The Lestrange brothers aren’t much brighter. Avery or Jugson are the obvious choices.”

Harry thought back to the times he’d encountered them. “I don’t remember Jugson well,” he admitted. “But Avery is too weak. He was always begging for mercy at m- at Voldemort’s feet,” he said, remembering his vivid dreams from Voldemort’s perspective. “The others wouldn’t trust him.”

Cragg nodded. “Potter’s right. Avery is a sadist, but he’s too volatile. If he’s been demeaned a lot by Voldemort in front of others, they won’t respect him. Jugson is the sensible choice. He’s quite calculating, but he gets riled up easily. Very impatient.”

“So, an impatient leader,” Kai said. “An unstable second-in-command who vies for the chief position, and four torturous lumberjacks for lackeys. I reckon that if we draw them into battle, they’ll probably underestimate us.”

Robards turned to Harry. “Potter?” he asked. Harry was surprised – he hadn’t thought he’d be involved in the decision-making process. “It’s your life on the line,” the Head Auror said by means of explanation.

“Yours too,” Harry said. At Robards’ shrug, Harry sighed. “Are you sure we can’t get more out of Greyback?”

Robards frowned. “They have until the 2nd to try. Personally, I doubt it, but the Minister remains hopeful. He said he’s got someone new to try and break him.”

Harry gulped. He prayed to god that didn’t mean him, after the letter he got this morning. “Battle, then. Unless Kingsley can get something better from him.”

Robards nodded. “We’ll train and plan for Battle until Friday. Don’t make plans for the weekend. Keep your mouths shut about Potter’s involvement in the team until then. Since I still have you all for the rest of the morning, though, partner up. Cragg with Potter. Elfie, Kai. Savage, Proudfoot. Duel until I call time. No serious injuries, though. Work on mind invasion and defence, too. The Lestrange brothers are both scarily good at _Legilimens_.”

After the most intense duelling session of his life, Harry was dripping with sweat in the Ministry changing rooms.

“Excellent form, Potter,” Cragg was saying. “I can see why Robards let you on the team without qualifications.”

Elfie clapped him on the back. “Potter’s qualifications include defeating a Dark Lord, Cragg,” she teased. “Where’s that on your resume?” The older man rolled his eyes at her cheek.

“Watch it, Whitby,” he growled fondly. “Otherwise you’ll be partnered with me next time.”

Elfie shrieked with laughter. “I’d crush you, old man,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way to the showers.

“As I was saying,” Cragg continued. “You’ve got good form. Your reflexes are naturally quick. Your wandless magic was very easy to block, though. It doesn’t feel quite right.”

Harry raised a brow, interested. “I’ve been working on it a lot – it’s far easier to control than through my wand.”

Cragg frowned. “What do you do when you cast wandless magic?”

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, casting a few wandless cleaning spells on his robes. “I just think about the spell I want to cast.”

Cragg nodded. “That’s why I was able to block it. When I used legilimency I could practically hear you shouting the spell in your mind,” he paused and looked at Harry with scrutiny. “You’re very powerful, lad. I shouldn’t think you’d need to do that. Just will it to happen.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The same thing you did with the wards earlier. Just will the magic to do your bidding. Here, try to disarm me, but don’t think of a spell. Just will it to happen,” Cragg said.

Harry closed his eyes. Instead of thinking _expelliarmus_ like he usually would, he tried to picture Cragg’s wand flying into his hand. When he opened his eyes, he felt a tug of magic, and the wizard’s wand was in his hand.

“Good,” Cragg said, nodding approvingly. “Keep practising. In fact, try not to use your wand for the rest of the week. If you can start to will things to happen, your magic will get even stronger.”

Harry nodded and handed back the man’s wand. “Thank you.”

“No problem, lad. I think you’re going to make a fine auror,” Cragg said as he left.

Proudfoot, Savage and Kai were arguing loudly over some quidditch match between two American quidditch teams.

“You follow American quidditch?” Harry asked Proudfoot and Savage.

Proudfoot sighed. “Well, it’s nowhere near as good as British quidditch,” he said, ignoring Kai’s yelp of indignation, “but since there are no professional games in Britain until next week, I’ve had to make do. Are you going to the Arrows vs. Wasps game?”

Harry pulled a face. “Yeah I am. I was really excited, but Kingsley’s turning it into a press thing. I wanted to go with Polyjuice.”

“Ugh that sucks,” Savage said.

Kai shrugged. “The media will probably die down when you stop being interesting,” he said kindly.

Proudfoot and Savage burst into laughter, and even Harry hid a smile. “I don’t think Harry Potter will ever not be interesting.” Proudfoot guffawed. He turned to Harry. “You coming to lunch at the Leaky?”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’d love to, but it’s probably best if I’m not seen in public with you guys until everything’s sorted. Also, I have a meeting with Kingsley.” He shrugged off his red auror robes and pulled on some plain black ones.

Kai frowned. “The British certainly expect a lot from a seventeen-year-old kid, don’t they?”

“Wait ‘til you hear that he’s a single parent,” Savage said drily.

“My godson,” Harry supplied at Kai’s shocked face. “And I’m not a single parent, not really. I’ve got Ron and Hermione.”

Proudfoot chuckled. “Fine, you’re co-parenting an infant with two other seventeen-year-olds. Still a lot to expect from all of you,” he said seriously.

“Yeah, well,” Harry said, feeling a bit awkward. “I’m used to it.”

“I bet you are,” Kai said quietly. He looked at him with such sympathy that Harry had to look away.

Sensing Harry’s discomfort, Savage smiled. “Well, if you ever need a babysitter, I’m always free. Same with Proudfoot.”

“Hey,” the man exclaimed. “I have a very busy social life, I’ll have you know.”

Kai laughed. “No, you don’t – you’re an auror.”

The four of them made their way to the door. “See you later, Potter,” Proudfoot said. “Good luck with the Minister. We owe you a drink.”

Harry grinned as he made his way to the Minister’s office, more than thrilled with his new team mates. Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, a quiet voice was chanting‘61% chance of fatalities’.

“Ah, Harry. Thank you for coming. Well done for passing Robards’ test. He was rather impressed with you. How was your first day?” Kingsley asked as Harry entered his office.

Harry smiled. “Yeah, it wasn’t too bad. I really like the team.”

“Excellent. Robards is thrilled to have a full team again. I’m glad Cragg’s come out of retirement. It’s a bit of an honour, really. He left in 1959 when Ignatius Tuft took over as Minister and refused to come back until the Ministry was under a leader that wasn’t corrupt. It’s a low bar, but I’m glad he believes that I’m above it,” Kingsley said, indicating that Harry should take a seat. The Minister waved his wand in an arch and raised several privacy wards around his office. “You’re not going to like what I have to say next.”

“Oh?” Harry said raising an eyebrow. “You think I was thrilled to be called in about the interrogations?” he asked sardonically. Malfoy’s sarcasm was clearly rubbing off on him.

Kingsley wasn’t fazed by his attitude. “Yes, well. I don’t just want you to sit in on my next interview with Greyback. I want you to interrogate him.”

“Me?” Harry asked. “Why? I’ve no idea how to interrogate someone,” Harry said bluntly.

Kingsley sighed. “I know. Which is why I want you to do it.” He closed his eyes as if he were pained for a moment. “You don’t know what the rules are.”

“I’m sorry?” Harry asked, very much not expecting that to be the Minister’s reasoning.

Kingsley looked into Harry’s eyes with an expression he’d never seen the man wear before. “Harry. Greyback is a bad person. He’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. Ruined even more lives by turning people. Remus was forever considered a second-class citizen because of what this man did.”

“I’m aware,” Harry said darkly. He could see where this was going. “What has that got to do with me interrogating him?”

Kingsley sighed, closing his eyes again. “I know we just spoke of me not being corrupt, but I- you should know that the ministry cannot identify what spells you cast with the Elder Wand,” he said after a moment.

Harry nodded- it was one of the first things Hermione had told him about the wand.

“He’s impervious to Veritaserum. None of us can break him. We cannot, legally, use a strong enough legilimency on him because it would literally cause his head to explode - his mental wards are too strong. We have two options. And both require you to do cast one or more extremely illegal spells so that this son of a bitch doesn’t end up prowling the streets again,” Kingsley explained. “You will not – and cannot – be charged with anything illegal; you and I will be the only people who know what you are going to do, your wand is the only one on earth that cannot be monitored by the ministry, and you can claim deniability because you do not know the law. I took an Oath. I cannot specify what spells or actions you should use, but, I implore you, for Remus, for Teddy, to not hold back. We need his information. We do not need him. If you do not, he will walk free. We simply don’t have enough evidence.”

Harry carefully schooled his expression so that he could have time to think. It was fundamentally wrong what he was being asked to do, and it was an incredibly low blow for Kingsley to use Remus and Teddy as an excuse to manipulate him into breaking the law. But, he also wasn’t wrong. Fenrir Greyback was the foulest, evilest person – no, thing – Harry had ever encountered, apart from maybe Voldemort and the information the werewolf had could make the 6% that continued to echo in the back of Harry’s mind significantly less. He had killed Voldemort. Why should he allow Greyback to continue to hurt innocents?

Carefully, he allowed his magic to unfurl slightly around him. The candles in the sconces on the wall started to flicker and the desk started to rattle. “Never use my godson to manipulate me into doing anything again, Minister,” Harry said coldly. Kingsley tried not to look intimidated, but Harry could see his eyes widen a fraction. He pulled the magic back in. The lights flickered back to their normal warm glow, and the desk was now suspiciously still. “Accidental magic,” Harry said with a shrug, maintaining his glare. He paused, mostly for dramatic effect at this point, but then nodded slowly. “On one condition. I need a list of all who were orphaned in the war."

"That should be possible," Kingsley said after a moment.

Harry sighed but steeled himself. "I won’t do anything here. Give me the afternoon. I will find a place."

Kingsley looked at Harry with scrutiny. “How will you get him out?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. “Plausible deniability.”

Kingsley frowned but nodded. “Thank you, Harry,” he said quietly. “I’ll meet you here at midnight.”

Harry nodded tiredly. He raised a hand and willed the privacy wards to drop. They did. “May I use your floo to leave, sir?” he asked with no trace of the malice that had been in his voice only moments before. “I can’t bear to face the crowds.”

“Of course,” Kingsley said brightly, waving at the fireplace. He looked significantly relieved, as if a large weight was off his shoulders.

As Harry stepped through the floo, however, he could feel the weight land heavily on his own.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your fantastic comments!  
> I used the website parselmouth.com for the parseltongue. It says: "Bring good luck. So mote it be."

“Kreacher,” Harry called as he paced in the living room.

The elf cracked into existence. “Master Harry is needing Kreacher?”

Harry crouched down so that he was at the elf’s eye-height. “Hermione, Ron and I are going to be moving into Potter manor soon. I really like Grimmauld Place,” he said, lying through his teeth, but not wanting to offend, “but I want to see where my dad grew up for a bit. There are three Potter house-elves – Roslyn, Mimsey and Hokka. I was going to ask if you would like to come with us, but I know you love this house. Malfoy and his mum are going to move in here, and I was wondering if you would rather stay here and help them?”

Kreacher’s eyes filled with tears almost instantly. “Master Harry is kind,” he croaked. “Kreacher is wanting to stay in House of Black and serve Mistress Black and Master Malfoy, if Master Harry is not needing him.”

“Excellent,” Harry said. He paused. He trusted that Malfoy wouldn’t hurt Kreacher, but he didn’t know Narcissa very well. To be safe, he said clearly, “Remember, Kreacher, I am still Lord Black. If you are ever hurt or put in danger by the Malfoys, you must come to me at once. That’s an order.”

Kreacher nodded eagerly. “Kreacher is coming to Master Harry if Kreacher is hurt.”

“Good. And remember, you’re never to punish yourself if you make a mistake, okay?” At Kreacher’s nod. Harry smiled. “You can go to the Malfoy’s now. Malfoy will need your help to pack. Thank you, Kreacher, for everything you’ve done for us. You’ve been a fantastic house elf.”

Kreacher smiled, his brown teeth glinting under the candlelight. “Master Harry is a good Master,” he said firmly, before bowing low and cracking away.

Harry blew out a breath of relief. He’d rather that no one was in the house for what he was about to do next, especially Kreacher. Taking large strides, he made his way to the large, dusty curtains that hung over the foul portrait of Walburga Black. Taking a deep breath, he willed the various charms on the portrait to break and flung open the curtains.

“Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers--" the portrait screeched as soon as the curtains parted.

Harry willed her to be quiet. The elderly woman closed her mouth with surprise. “I am Harry Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Black, Gaunt, Peverell and Potter. I need you to answer some questions,” he said, trying to remain calm.

Walburga raised a thin eyebrow and looked at him with scrutiny. “Just because you’ve claimed your inheritance does not mean you are a true son of Black, boy,” she spat.

Harry unfurled his magic for the second time that day. He was getting seriously sick of people underestimating him. “I am a direct descendent of Cygnus Black I and I am the only living heir to the House of Black. You may not like it, but you are stuck with me, lest you want the family to have become extinct when Regulus defied Lord Voldemort, cousin,” Harry said icily. He reined back the magic a bit but kept just enough so that the portrait would feel a touch of pressure against the paint.

“I see you have some of the Black madness in you, Potter,” she said, looking Harry up and down with appraisal. “My father always said that Dorea was the maddest of his siblings.” She squinted. “What do you wish to know then, my lord?” she asked, bowing sarcastically.

Harry raised his chin. “This is not all of Grimmauld Place,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Hermione had speculated as much even back in their fifth year. The home of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black couldn’t just be a modestly-sized town house. In fact, it was very strange that the Blacks would choose to live in Muggle London at all, when they could live in a mansion in a wizarding hamlet like the Malfoys, the Potters or the Weasleys.

Walburga smirked. “You have brains, too, it seems,” she said, her brown teeth glinting.

“Reveal it to me,” Harry commanded, running out of patience for these games quickly. Hermione and Ron would be home any moment.

Walburga raised her chin. “I want off this wall,” she said, after a minute.

“I’m sorry?” Harry asked, surprised. They had been trying to remove her from the wall for years, unable to break the permanent sticking charm.

“A portrait is but a glimmer of one’s true self. I do not wish to be trapped here in this temporary light. My husband commissioned this for me against my wishes. He did not know me very well,” she said. Harry understood, and he even felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman.

Shortly after the battle, Harry had asked McGonagall if she would commission portraits of Snape and Dumbledore for the Head’s office. She’d sighed sadly. “I’m sorry, Harry, but I cannot. It would be cruel. A portrait is only as true as the painter’s knowledge of the subject. I am no painter, and even if I were, I did not know them. Did you?” she’d asked. Harry was about to say that of course he knew Dumbledore and Snape. That they were good men and that they should be honoured with portraits in the office they once belonged in. But he held his tongue. Only months before he had realised he knew nothing of Dumbledore’s life, outside of his plans for Harry. Not to mention that only a few days ago, he had believed with all his heart that Snape was a traitor. No painter could ever capture the truth of the two headmasters.

Harry nodded. Holding the bottom of the frame, he closed his eyes and willed it to come unstuck. It became heavy in his hands. Placing it on the ground and leaning it carefully against the wall, he took a step back.

“Thank you,” Walburga said quietly. She cleared her throat. “ _L'ancienne et la plus noble maison des noirs, révèle-toi à ton maître_ ,” she cast, raising a painted thin black wand to touch the corner of the frame.

All of a sudden, the earth started to shake, and the staircase that Harry was standing on started to move. Around him, couches and beds and full walls and tables and windows and fireplaces soared above his head. He gripped the bannister tightly, praying that whatever Walburga had just done wasn’t disturbing his muggle neighbours. A floating window nearby, however, showed his next-door neighbour’s children playing hopscotch without a glance in Grimmauld Place’s direction. When it all came to a stop, Harry looked around to see a completely different home.

Instead of the creaky wooden stairs he had become accustomed to, Harry was standing on a grand staircase lined with an intricately detailed blue runner. Glancing up, he could tell that it was four storeys tall, as it had been before, but each of the levels were now far wider. The walls were lined with portraits, but only a few were moving. Everything was just as dusty and dark as always, but the extra space removed the horrible cramped feel of the place.

“Thank you,” Harry said, grinning at Walburga. “It’s beautiful.”

Walburga nodded aristocratically. “Take care of my home. It is yours now, my Lord,” she said, and this time her deferential nod was genuine. “Will you destroy my portrait, please?”

“If you want,” Harry shrugged.

Walburga’s face softened with relief. “I wish to be at peace,” she said. “ _Toujours Pur_.”

Harry sighed. He might have accepted his place as Head of the Black family, but he would never be okay with the family motto. He closed his eyes and willed the painting to burn. When he opened them again, Walburga’s portrait was no more, and a pile of ash was in its place. With a flick of his hand, it vanished.

“Merlin’s saggy ball sack,” Ron’s voice cried from downstairs. “What happened here?”

Harry ran down the steps two at a time. Hermione, Ron and Bill were standing in a drawing room that Harry had never seen before.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said, sounding pleased. “The house has finally accepted you as Lord!”

Harry smiled. “Yeah. It’s good to see you, Bill,” he said, shaking the eldest Weasley child’s hand. “I haven’t had a chance to explore yet, but, listen, I have to tell you something,” he said gravely. “Is Teddy still at the Burrow?”

Ron nodded. “Didn’t think he should be here while we were curse-breaking.”

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione looked concerned. “Is it your scar?” she asked worriedly.

Harry reached a hand up to his forehead. It hadn’t so much as twinged since Voldemort died, and Harry had almost forgot that it existed. “No. Voldemort is definitely dead. It’s definitely gone,” he said firmly. He trusted Bill, but the trio had made a pact that they would never mention the existence of Horcruxes to anybody. The world was better off if the knowledge of horcruxes faded away forever. He glanced at Bill.

The corner of the curse-breaker’s scarred mouth lifted. “This sounds like something I don’t need to hear,” he said. “I’ll go and explore the house. See if I can’t find any cursed objects.”

“Thanks Bill,” Harry said, relieved. “We’ll join you in a moment.”

When it was just the three of them, Harry reached for his wand and cast every privacy spell he could think of. He was keen to follow Cragg’s advice to develop his wandless magic, but there was something comforting about the certainty of a spell cast with a wand.

“Mate, what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” Ron commented, an arm wrapped around Hermione’s waist.

Harry sighed. “You,” he said, pointing to Hermione, “are especially not going to like this.” The witch was nearly fanatical when it came to rules, and Harry was about to break several. He gestured for them to sit.

“I think it’ll be easier if I just show you,” Harry said after a minute. Closing his eyes, he summoned Dumbledore’s pensieve that McGonagall had given him after the battle. He pulled the memory of his meeting with Kingsley out of his mind with his wand and tipped it into the floating basin.

Hermione and Ron didn’t need to be told what to do. When they emerged several minutes later, both looked slightly grey.

They sat in silence. Hermione looked crushed. Her faith in a new, uncorrupted, good minister shattered. Ron was much harder to read. It was he who broke the quiet.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “How do we do this?”

Hermione closed her eyes and let out a whimper.

“You don’t have to be involved,” Harry offered. “You could remove the memory of this conversation.”

She closed her eyes. “No,” she said through gritted teeth. “I was naïve to think everything would be better. We’re a team. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together.”

Harry nodded, extraordinarily relieved. He didn’t think he could face this alone.

“But when it comes time for – for the end of this evening,” Hermione continued. “I don’t want to be there.” She didn’t want to see her two best friends become murderers.

“Of course,” Harry said instantly.

Ron bit his lip but didn’t say anything. Harry cleared his throat.

“Okay. We need a place to do this. I was kind of hoping this place had a dungeon.”

Ron smirked. “I think you can be pretty confident in that.” They turned to Hermione, who now had her business face on.

“Can you get him out of the Ministry?” Hermione asked. “I know you can apparate in, but you’ve never tried getting out.”

Harry swallowed. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “Suppose I can’t – what do we do? Do I just try an unprotected floo?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “The floos can be tracked, no matter who uses them.”

Ron frowned. “What about your portkey?”

Harry blinked at him. “My ring?” he asked.

“Yes! Oh Ron, you’re brilliant,” Hermione exclaimed. “You’ll still be breaking several wards, but I’ve no doubt that it’ll work. The only problem is, you are the only person who can break those wards. It’ll be incredibly obvious to anyone who looked hard enough that you were the one to break him out.”

“Not if we fix them before they realise he’s missing,” Ron countered.

Harry frowned. “No offence, Ron, but the ministry wards are probably insanely difficult. None of us have any experience with them, outside of Hogwarts. I don’t think we’d be able to replicate them.”

Ron shook his head. “Not us, Bill,” he explained. “He apprenticed at the ministry for five years as a ward keeper before working for Gringotts. He knows the wards like the back of his hand.”

“Ron, what we’re about to do, it’s treasonous,” Harry said. “If we tell him what our plans are, he could report us to the Ministry and we’d go to Azkaban. Kingsley wouldn’t be able to protect us. I know he’s your brother, but are you sure we can trust him?”

The redhead paused. After a long moment, he nodded. “I’m sure. And not just because he’s family. Greyback nearly killed him.”

“I’d still feel better if we had some sort of contingency,” Hermione piped up. “I could write up a contract but I’d need longer than we have. The only other thing I can think of is an Unbreakable Vow.”

“No,” Harry balked. “We can’t do that. If Ron says he trusts him, I trust him.”

“Fine. At the very least have him make a Wizard’s Oath,” Hermione said. “It doesn’t have any consequences for him, but we’d feel it if he broke it. We’d have time to…” She trailed off.

Harry nodded. “Okay. Let’s go find him.”

They found Bill upstairs in the library.

“I was going to ask if everything was alright, but when it comes to you three it never is,” he commented.

Ron smiled grimly. “You want in?”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Always.”

“It’ll put you at risk,” Harry warned.

Bill rolled his eyes. “Harry, my job puts me at risk. I was at risk during the war. What makes you think I crave a quiet life?”

“We need you to make an Oath,” Ron said, cutting through the pleasantries. “What we’re about to do is treasonous. I trust you, but I won’t put Hermione’s life at risk.”

“Thank you, Ronald. How gallant,” Hermione drawled sardonically. The pink flush to her cheeks told Harry she was secretly pleased, though. A small part of both of them were still smarting from when Ron left them in the forest. Harry knew that their friend had proven himself time and again since then, but he also knew Hermione and how long it would take her to fully trust him again.

Bill didn’t seem offended. Instead, he knelt on one knee. “I solemnly swear that whatever is discussed in this room will not be repeated by me to anyone, without prior consent of the members within this room.” He grinned cockily. “Sufficient?” he asked Ron.

Harry felt the magic settle over his bones. “More than. Thank you.” He turned to the door and cast the privacy wards from earlier.

“I trust you have a good reason to commit treason?” Bill asked once the wards were set.

Ron nodded. “Greyback is impervious to Veritaserum, and the ministry hasn’t been able to get anything out of him through legilimency. He’s claiming he only worked for Voldemort during the war under duress. Kingsley is concerned he’ll walk free.”

Bill nodded gravely. “Harry’s wand can’t be traced by the ministry. Kingsley wants him to break him.” He ran a hand through his hair tiredly. “I can’t say I’m not surprised. I guess I thought more of Kingsley. He was a Slytherin, though,” he mused. “Not that that means he’s evil, necessarily,” he added at Hermione’s face. “Just that he’s ambitious. As for Greyback: I don’t want that bastard to walk free. I know she’d never say so, but I can tell Fleur hates him for what he did to my face.” Bill turned to Harry. “What do you need from me?”

“You know the Ministry wards, yes?” Harry asked. “I need you to replicate them when I break them. It’ll be kind of obvious that I was the one to break him out if the wards are snapped.”

Bill thought for a moment. “Sure, I can do that. The wards in the prison block are fairly simple actually. I’ll need help though.”

Hermione nodded. “Ron and Harry will take Greyback. I’ll keep lookout for you. We’re both keyed into Kingsley’s floo already.”

Bill considered for a moment but nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work. I’m in.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon following Bill around the house as he sought out the dark objects.

“I can destroy them now, if you want,” Bill had said.

Harry shook his head. “Just tell me what they are and what they do first, if you can.” He couldn’t help but think some of them might come in useful later down the track.

Eventually, they had gathered all thirty-eight objects, and they were lying, seemingly unassuming, on the kitchen table. There was a door to the right of the fridge, which Harry had never seen before. “This must lead to the dungeons,” he said. There was no doorhandle.

“Alohomora,” Hermione said confidently. The door did not budge. She frowned.

Bill closed his eyes as he tapped the door with his wand several times. The door remained still, but his face cleared with recognition. “It’ll only open for the house’s master. We’d better hope that’s you, Harry,” he said.

Harry raised a hand to the place where a doorknob should’ve been. The door creaked open ominously. “Something feels wrong,” he said at once. Several steps led down into complete darkness, but the smell of rotting meat filled the air. “Wands out.”

They went down the steps cautiously, Ron moving to stand in front of Hermione protectively. Harry didn’t mention that Hermione was far more skilled at magic than her boyfriend and that, if they were sensible, they should probably reverse positions. He would have, if he’d thought there was a great risk, but as much as the stench was unbearable, an overwhelming feeling of stagnant magic was in the air. Anything that had occurred in these dungeons had happened a very long time ago.

“Oh Bellatrix, you clever bitch,” Harry said as they got to the bottom of the stairs. A large painting of the witch, albeit much younger, smirked at them from the brick wall that faced them.

“Itty bitty Potter, come to claim my family home?” she cried in a mocking voice. “I won’t have it.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. There was something different about this painting. Its magic felt different – stronger even. In that moment he was incredibly grateful that Hermione was standing behind Ron. She did not need to see her torturer’s face again. “Hello, cousin,” he said drily. “We’d like to get through to the dungeons.”

“What could precious pious Potter need with some dungeons?” she asked imperiously. “Have you kidnapped someone? Are you planning on torturing them?” Bellatrix’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Hmmm, perhaps you have some of the mad Black blood in you, after all…”

Harry’s eyes flashed dangerously. The portrait cackled. “Who is it then? If you tell me, I might just let you through,” she teased.

“Not likely,” Harry chuckled darkly. “Let us through, Bella. Or I will destroy you.”

“You couldn’t if you tried. No one can destroy an immortal being,” she laughed maniacally. Harry’s stomach dropped. Bellatrix’s portrait was a horcrux. He should have known! Bellatrix’s body had never been found, despite Molly and Ginny swearing up and done that the Weasley matriarch had killed her. He opened his mouth, but Ron had already pressed a basilisk’s fang into his hand.

“I always have them on me,” he admitted quietly. Harry released a breath. He should have been just as prepared. Of course, someone else would know about horcruxes.

He raised the fang. “Do you know what this is, Bella?” he asked. She glanced at it and stopped laughing but didn’t say anything. Harry glanced back at Hermione, Ron and Bill (looking incredibly confused). He cast a _muffliato_ over himself and the painting.

“From your reaction, I can see that you do. I tell you what. I am willing to strike a deal,” he said calmly. “I need to know the truth. Where is your soul? Your life source?”

Bellatrix scoffed. “Why should I tell you?” she spat. “You’ll destroy me anyway.”

“Not necessarily,” Harry admitted. This version of Bella appeared slightly saner than the last time he’d encountered the witch. He wanted nothing more than to destroy Bella for good. For Sirius. For Hermione. For Neville. And, some little part of him wanted to kill her for just being inconvenient. But he knew that she’d be much more valuable to him alive. “You could prove useful. I have things I need to know. About your husband and his brother, for example. I’m also aware that you have extensive knowledge of the dark arts. It would be useful to have someone to teach me.” He pressed the fang against the corner of the painting. “But, I do have other sources for these things.”

Bellatrix looked pained as she gasped out, “The forbidden forest. My body is in the forbidden forest.”

Harry nodded approvingly. From the amount the woman panicked, he was fairly sure she only had one horcrux, but he needed to be certain. “I will find your body. I will bring it back here, and I will keep it in the dungeon. You, this version of yourself in the painting, may live, as long as you do what I ask.”

Bellatrix fell to both of her knees. “Please. I’ll do anything, my lord,” she begged, her head bowed in fear. “Please don’t let me die.”

Harry shuddered, reminded of the times he’d watched her cow before Voldemort. At least her pleas proved that she only had one horcrux. He pulled the basilisk fang away regretfully. “Who else knows of horcruxes?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” she said in a rushed voice from her kneeled position. “The Dark Lord told me about them when we were still at Hogwarts. He loved me. I loved him. He made his diary and I made this portrait on the same evening.” Tears pooled in her painted glassy eyes. “He promised me that it was just for us. That we were the only ones who knew.”

“That’s how Lucius knew that the diary would open the chamber of secrets,” Harry muttered. It had confused them all when Lucius was interrogated. He had no knowledge of horcruxes. Bellatrix must have told him what to do with it. “Thank you, Bella. Let us through to the dungeons now. I will come back to speak with you later.”

She stood up quickly, nodding frantically. “Thank you, my lord,” she wept as she swung open to reveal a row of four small cells filled with a variety of torture weapons.

Harry released the muffling charm.

“Why didn’t you get rid of her?” Hermione asked at once. She glanced at the portrait, slightly horrified at the weeping mess Bellatrix had come. “What did you do to her? She was grovelling like you were Voldemort.”

Harry shook his head. “Later.” He moved into the first cell, running a finger over the instruments lying on a bench.

Ron sighed. “Well, this will work for tonight. It’s certainly got the right ambience. Are you really going to torture him with these things, Harry?”

“No,” Harry said. “Just spells. Let’s bring the dark objects down here, until we know what to do with them. Malfoy won’t be able to open the door even if he wanted to, when he moves in.”

The others nodded, and Harry summoned the objects. Soon, the four found themselves sitting in a circle in one of the cells, levitating each of the objects into a ‘keep it’ or ‘destroy it’ pile.

“This is what my mum had us do when we were moving house,” Hermione commented.

Ron squeezed her hand. “We’ll find them.” Hermione nodded absently.

“Dad spoke to his cousin, by the way. The mind healer in Australia? He’s keen to help you,” Bill said warmly.

Hermione blinked in surprise. “You told Arthur?” she asked Ron.

“Yeah. I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Ron said. “I just thought we might need someone to help restore their memories when we find them.”

Hermione didn’t say anything but smiled radiantly. She squeezed Ron’s hand three times. _I love you._ Ron squeezed back.

In the end, they only kept five of the objects: a crystal bottle filled with dove’s blood, which, when written with, would make a magical oath more binding; a silver dagger, which could keep a victim alive forever but in excruciating pain; a golden snuffbox filled with human ashes, which could cause a person to fall into an enchanted sleep; and two gris-gris bags made from a human burial shroud.

“That’s disgusting,” Hermione said, quickly dropping one of the bags.

“Yes,” Bill nodded. “But it is very powerful. It will give whoever holds it good or bad luck, depending on what its master wishes.”

Harry frowned. “How do I make it give someone good luck?”

“Here,” Bill said, handing them to him. Harry tried to bury the thoughts of where the fabric had come from deep in the recesses of his mind. “Hold them in your wand hand, and then say what you wish it to bring the wearer in your strongest language. End the sentence with ‘So mote it be.’”

Harry frowned. What was his most powerful language? The only language he really knew was English, but he could also speak parseltongue. He sighed. “Ron, can you think of a snake?” he asked.

Ron rolled his eyes, but did so anyway, lowering his mental walls that Harry had made him and Hermione build up relentlessly after the battle. “I hate it when you do this,” he complained.

Harry closed his eyes and cast a silent, gentle _Legilimens._ In the front of Ron’s mind was Harry’s own duel with Malfoy in second year. Harry tried really hard not to see what else was in his friend’s head, but mortifyingly saw a memory of Hermione in the throes of passion before he could pull back. “Gross, Ron. I really didn’t need to see that,” he said.

“I’m sorry! It’s hard not to think about it!” Ron said, his ears going bright red. 

“Ron,” Hermione groaned, having figured out very quickly what they were talking about.

Harry shook his head. “It’s okay, I can see a snake,” he said, going back in. Ignoring the image of Hermione, which was now even further forward in Ron’s mind, despite desperate attempts from both of them to push it back, Harry could see memory-Malfoy cast a snake. “ _Awfuuuslasso eeshayartaw corstiaux. Ssss awfuuustrists ssss teyai_ ,” he said. He couldn’t tell the difference between parseltongue and English, but, based on the faces of his friends, he wasn’t speaking English.

“Here,” he offered, pulling out of Ron’s brain. “Take these. Keep them on you at all times,” he said to Ron and Hermione. He turned to Bill, “I’m sorry we didn’t have any more.”

Bill waved him off. “I have several of my own,” he said, pulling open his jacket. Like a drug dealer in a comical muggle movie, the inside of Bill’s jacket was lined with gris-gris bags and other objects, including a variety of weapons. “I’m not strictly meant to have any of these, mind you, but most curse-breakers do,” he admitted.

Harry grinned at Hermione’s response.

“I think that’s highly sensible. Harry, I appreciate this, but I am not touching a burial shroud. That’s sacrilegious.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Since when were you religious?”

“Since it gave me a reason not to touch a sheet that someone was buried in,” Hermione retorted, jutting her chin out. “By the way, you will be removing whatever memory you saw in Ron’s brain.”

“Happily,” Harry promised. He did not care to see the person he considered his sister in that position.

“Here,” Ron said, summoning two zip-lock bags from the kitchen. It turned out that muggles were far more advanced than wizards when it came to food preservation. He placed each of the gris-girs bags in them and put one in Hermione’s pocket. “I know it’s gross, but it’ll keep us safe,” Ron said, pocketing his own.

Hermione rolled her eyes but ceased her arguments. “Fine. I only hope that tonight goes better than the last time we tried to break into the ministry.”


	16. Chapter 16

At one-minute past twelve, Bill, Ron, Hermione and Harry stepped through the Minister for Magic’s fireplace with plans to kidnap his most high-profile prisoner.

Kingsley nodded in greeting at them, looking highly unsurprised at the company. “The night warden has just done his rounds on this level. He’ll be going upstairs now, so the hallways between here and the prison block should be empty, save for the guards outside his cell.” He clasped Harry’s hand. “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry nodded. He still felt incredibly conflicted about the whole thing. He wasn’t a murderer – or, well, he was but not properly. And he didn’t want to torture someone, no matter how deserving they were of it.

Leaving a mildly guilty-looking Kingsley to his paperwork, the four made their way through the abandoned hallways of the ministry. The holding cells were on the second lowest level of the Ministry, just about the Department of Mysteries.

“I hate this place,” Ron commented as they walked, the sounds of their shoes clacking against dark tiles echoing.

Hermione nodded. “Why did they make it so gloomy?” she asked.

“The British ministry hasn’t had a proper peace-time in over two hundred years,” Bill explained. “I guess they thought this 1940s depressing colour palate was reflective of that.”

Deciding against using the lifts, they entered a dark stairwell. Ron clicked on the lights with his deluminator, and they all retrieved their wands from their holsters. There was a cold shiver to the air in the stairwell, almost like the breath of a dementor.

On the first basement level, Harry had Ron put out the lights. He opened the door silently and peeked around the corner. To the right stood two guards chatting quietly. They were standing in front of a large glass cell in which a snarling Fenrir Greyback was imprisoned. He let the door close.

“Two guards,” Harry confirmed. “On my count, Ron, remove the lights. Bill and Hermione, you stun the guards. They don’t need to be out for more than five minutes. Ron, you and I get Greyback. We’ll probably have to immobilise him. I don’t trust him not to attack with his hands.”

With their nods of confirmation, Harry took a deep breath. “Okay. Three, Two,” he nodded at Ron to push open the door quickly and take out the lights.

“Confundus! Stupefy!” Hermione and Bill cast. The guards hit the floor before they even realised something was happening.

Harry and Ron made for the glass door. Greyback was sitting at a desk, his hands in silver chains, smirking at them.

“Potter,” he snarled. “Didn’t expect you to be my knight in shining armour.”

Harry rolled his eyes and immobilised him before the werewolf could say anything further. He grabbed the man by his shoulder and Ron took his other side. “See you later,” he called to Bill and Hermione. “You’ll have about two minutes to fix the wards before the alarm sounds. Good luck.” Harry closed his eyes and pictured the dungeons in Grimmauld Place and tapped the ring on his right hand with his wand. Harry felt a familiar tug in his stomach and then a piercing headache as he tore through the wards of the Ministry of Magic.

When he opened his eyes, they were standing in front of Bellatrix’s portrait in Grimmauld Place’s basement. The portrait swung open without asking questions but she raised an eyebrow when she saw their prisoner.

Harry swayed on the spot slightly his head still aching with the effort to break the wards earlier. Ron pushed Greyback roughly into one of the cells and swung the door close. A chain wrapped around the bars like a snake and locked it in place. Harry took a deep breath and leant against the cold stone wall.

“You alright?” Ron asked, frowning.

Harry nodded, swallowing thickly. “Harder than I thought it was going to be. I hope Bill and Hermione can fix the wards.”

“They’ll be fine,” Ron said with confidence, although he kept checking his watch.

Harry glanced at Greyback, who was still sitting quietly with an absent smile on his face. “We can’t do anything when he’s like this, anyway. You go upstairs and wait by the floo. When they’re back, come back down.”

Ron sighed wearily but nodded. “Alright.”

Harry leant against the wall, watching the werewolf carefully, waiting for the spell to wear off. He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill and scribbled on it.

Harry heard the floo chime and felt the wards shift as Bill and Hermione returned. He let out a breath of relief he hadn’t realised he was holding in.

Greyback shifted. “Potter,” he spat, finally blinking off the last of the confounding charms.

“Greyback,” Harry nodded coolly, pushing off the wall.

The werewolf nodded at the piece of parchment. “What’s that?”

“Your confession,” Harry supplied, passing it through the bars.

Greyback rolled his eyes. “You expect me to sign it?” he laughed lowly.

Ron entered the room. He moved to stand next to Harry, arms crossed. “What’s the plan?”

“What _is_ the plan?” Greyback sneered. “Your aurors couldn’t get anything from me. There are only a few legal ways to make someone break.”

Harry raised an eyebrow but ignored him. Turning to Ron, instead, he said, “You don’t have to be here.”

Ron shook his head. “Yes, I do. For Lavender.”

Harry blinked in surprise. He had almost forgotten. He nodded once and turned back to Greyback. “Imperio,” he cast easily.

Greyback’s face went black for less than a moment. He sneered. “Golden boy isn’t so good after all, using an Unforgivable,” he tutted. “Too bad that I can resist it.”

Harry had suspected as much. “Pity,” Harry said. “You’re not going to like Plan B.” He closed his eyes, drudging up memories he had spent so long squashing into the recesses of his mind. Remus, screaming in agony as his bones started to break and reform into those of a wolf’s in his third year. His thin, frail frame and dark bags under his eyes after he’d been unemployed for over year, because of his curse. Bill’s face ripped open as he lay in the Hospital Wing, Molly weeping over his frightfully still body. Lavender’s body in pieces in the Great Hall. Teddy’s screams for his parents the first few nights after the Battle.

He opened his eyes. “ _Crucio_.”

Greyback blinked in surprise before the red light hit him and dropped to the floor in pain. While he writhed in agony, Harry quickly cast again.

“ _Imperio_.”

Greyback’s face went blank. Harry ended the torture spell and waited to see if the werewolf would be able to break out. After two or three minutes, he turned to Ron.

“How did you know that would work?” Ron asked, looking at Harry with a mixture of surprise and disgust.

Harry sighed. “Voldemort used to do it.” He ran a hand through his hair and turned to Greyback. “Write down the names of every person you have killed,” he ordered.

The werewolf reached for the paper with a shaky hand. From the warring emotions in the man’s eyes, Harry could tell that he was struggling to fight the order.

“Crucio,” Harry cast again. The man dropped with a cry of pain. “Imperio.”

Greyback looked up at him expectantly.

“Write down the names of every person you have killed,” Harry said again. This time he was quick to obey.

The page was soon covered in scribbles. There were more names than Harry could count. Ron looked sick as he read over Harry’s shoulder.

“What do you know of Jugson and the remaining death eaters?” Harry asked. Greyback struggled to answer and, for a moment, Harry worried that the spell was breaking.

“It’s too vague,” Ron said after a moment. “Your command needs to be more direct.”

Harry chided himself mentally. “Where are Jugson and the other death eaters?”

“I don’t know,” Greyback answered.

“Do they have any safe houses?” Ron asked. He glanced at Harry when Greyback didn’t respond.

“Answer him,” Harry said.

Greyback nodded. “Three safe houses.”

Harry nodded. He summoned another piece of parchment. “Write down the addresses.”

They continued in this manner for several hours, until all three of them were so tired they could barely keep their eyes open.

“What should we do with him?” Ron asked, nudging the newly-stunned werewolf with his toe. “He’d kill us if the roles were swapped.”

Harry swallowed. Kingsley hadn’t said anything directly, but Harry knew that he’d expected them to kill him. Harry closed his eyes. Could he do it? He glanced down at the wand in his hand. The Death Stick, it was called. Harry wasn’t Voldemort – he couldn’t cast AK. With the Unforgivables, you have to want it to work, and Harry wasn’t sure he really wanted to kill Greyback.

“ _Eliminata,”_ Harry cast. A numbing spell. It was a kindness that perhaps the werewolf didn’t deserve, but Harry knew what his next spell would do. “ _Sectumsempra_ ”.

A burst of white light, and several large cuts appeared on Greyback’s body. Harry and Ron were silent as they watched the man bleed out. He couldn’t feel what was happening, Harry tried to tell himself. He’d killed so many people, he’d be given the Dementor’s Kiss, anyway, which was a fate worse than death.

Blood pulled around Harry’s shoes as Greyback let out one last, long death rattle. The body before them went still.

“Fuck, Harry,” Ron said after a minute.

Harry didn’t say anything. He was sure his voice would betray him if he did. He vanished the blood and cast a stasis spell over the body. His hands were shaking in a way they never had before.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll take him back to the Ministry with Bill.”

Ron nodded, looking almost as pale as the body drained of blood between them, and made his way quietly up the stairs. Bill came down a moment later.

“I don’t want to know,” he said before even glancing at the body. “Did you get what you needed?”

Harry nodded, and passed him the several pieces of parchment. “We’ll have two minutes,” he said. “Can you do the wards again?”

Bill nodded easily and levitated the body. Grabbing its ankle and Bill’s shoulder, Harry apparated them directly into the room they’d found him.

Bill placed the body on the seat, and the papers on the desk. Together they fixed the wards and made their way up to Kingsley’s office. He wasn’t there. Easier to deny the blood on his hands, Harry supposed. He glanced down at his own.

Bill glanced at him sideways. “There’s a muggle play,” he said after a moment. “And there’s a line where this woman asks: ‘will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean off my hand?’”

“And could it?” Harry asked. “Did she ever get the blood off?”

Bill sighed. “No. She went mad.”

“Yeah.” Harry grit his teeth. “I thought so.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one I'm afraid.

Harry, Ron and Bill spent the rest of the night in a whiskey-fuelled haze. Hermione had tried to confiscate their liquor at some point but took one glance at their faces before deciding to join them.

“Never again,” Hermione said to Harry. “Can you promise me that?”

Harry sighed. “You know I can’t,” he said honestly.

Everyone fell asleep at some point, except for Harry. At some point, he found himself at the Burrow.

Teddy was in Ginny’s arms on the couch. She blinked sleep from her eyes as the floo chimed. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah,” he said. He scooped Teddy from Ginny’s arms.

“And you smell like whiskey,” Ginny commented helpfully.

Harry nodded. Teddy stirred in his arms and his hair turned black as he smushed his face further into Harry’s chest. Harry sighed. “I’m doing it for you, Ted,” he whispered quietly.

Ginny smiled softly. “You sleeping tonight?” she asked.

“No,” Harry said.

“Coffee, then,” Ginny said, stretching as she stood up and made her way over to the kitchen. “Where are my brothers, then?”

“Passed out in my kitchen,” Harry answered as he followed her.

Ginny reached up to the cupboard to get some mugs. “Sounds like fun. Invite me to the party next time.”

“I killed someone tonight, Gin,” Harry said after a moment.

Ginny paused. After a moment, she picked up the mugs and resumed making the coffee. “Did they deserve it?” she asked.

“Yes… no. I don’t know,” Harry said quietly.

Ginny nodded thoughtfully and passed him his cup. “I don’t think the war’s over. I’m not sure it ever will be – not for us. All we can do is make sure that its over for them,” she said softly, nodding at the baby in his arms.

Harry nodded. He was beginning to think she was right.

Ginny looked at him, curiously. “Did it feel good?”

“No,” Harry said immediately. “It made me feel sick.”

“That’s alright, then,” Ginny said firmly. “You’re still you. The moment it feels good, you come to me, okay?”

“I don’t want to do it again,” Harry said.

Ginny scoffed. “You’re an Auror, Harry. You will have to kill again. Probably many times. It will break you. And probably, one day it will start to feel good. That’s when you come to me, and we’ll run away to a tropical island. Take Teddy. Live as muggles or something,” she said this all as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry smiled tiredly. “That sounds wonderful.”

A few hours later, Harry and Ginny had played seven games of gobstones, and Harry was starting to feel a bit better - minus the incredible hangover that was coming on.

“Oh, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley greeted him with surprise as she walked into the kitchen, Mr. Weasley and George on her heels. “Staying for breakfast?”

“Sure,” Harry said, moving to help her with the porridge.

An owl tapped on the window. Ginny opened it for him. “Oh look! My Hogwarts’ letter. And the Prophet,” she said, looking at Harry carefully after glancing at the front page. Mercifully she didn’t say anything and allowed herself up with Mrs. Weasley’s exclamations of “It’s about time!” and “We can get your books firsthand this year.”

Mr. Weasley read the paper interestedly. “Greyback’s dead,” he told them. “Apparently he killed himself after writing out a full confession.”

“Really?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “I thought Kingsley was worried he’d walk free. Why on earth would he kill himself?”

“The interrogation process can be pretty rough, mum.” Ginny came to the rescue. “Maybe he started to feel guilty.”

“Maybe,” George agreed, glancing critically at Harry’s weary face.

Ginny gasped as she emptied her envelope. “Quidditch captain!” she said, pleased.

George scoffed. “That’s hardly a surprise, Gin.”

“You’re the best player at Hogwarts,” Harry added.

“Well, it’s still exciting,” said Mrs. Weasley, sweeping Ginny into a big hug. “I’m proud of you darling.”

The floo chimed, and out stepped Bill, Hermione and Ron, the latter of which still wearing his clothes from last night. There was a slight splattering of blood on his collar.

“Told you he’d be here,” Hermione said to her boyfriend. “Now stop worrying and go back and have a shower.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “But mum’s made porridge!” he protested.

“Ron,” Harry said quickly, and grabbed him by the elbow, dragging him away from the others. “Blood on your collar. Go and get changed.”

He looked down at his shirt. “Yuck. Okay, fine. But this is your fault. You can’t just disappear on us after what we did last night.”

“You’re right,” Harry said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight and I couldn’t sleep.”

Ron clapped him on the back. “Well, you’re alive. That’s all that matters. Have you read the paper?”

“Not yet. Just saw the headline. At least they’re not saying it was murder. How he was supposed to do that to himself without a wand, though…” Harry muttered.

“It pays to have friends in high places, mate,” he said. He called out to the kitchen, “Back in mo’. Ask ‘Mione what she got in the mail!”

“Head Girl?” Ginny asked with a grin.

Hermione blushed. “Yes. I can’t say it was a surprise, but it is an honour. Did you get Quidditch?”

“Of course,” she responded. “I’m the best player at Hogwarts.”

Everyone laughed and as Harry gave Teddy his bottle with his family bickering over breakfast, he could almost forget what he’d done.

George pulled him aside after they’d eaten. “I want in,” he said.

“Sorry?” Harry asked.

“You killed Greyback. Ginny’s face gave it away. And the blood on Ron’s shirt. I want in. For Fred,” he said plainly.

Harry groaned, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, it was just a one-time thing, alright? Kingsley asked me to do it. I’m not on some vigilante mission to kill all Death Eaters,” he whispered furiously.

“Why not?” George asked. “You have the power. Magical and political. You could get away with anything you wanted.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to get away with anything,” Harry said. “I just want to live a fucking normal life.”

“Fuck right off, Harry Potter. You cannot and will not have a normal life. You’re the fucking boy-who-lived. The Saviour. It’s not fair and it’s not right, but you have a responsibility to fix this world before there’s another fucking war,” George said lowly.

“There’ll always be another fucking war!” Harry said, fighting to keep his voice low. “There’s nothing I can do, anyway. Most of the Death Eaters are in Azkaban already, and the others are being hunted down by the aurors. What do you want me to do?”

George actually shoved him then. “I want you to get your head out of your arse!” he shouted, forgetting the fact that their conversation was meant to be quiet. He lowered his voice quickly. “I’m not talking about Death Eaters. You know what I’m talking about. The ministry’s corrupt, Azkaban is easy to break out of, and Voldemort’s supporters are still out there. You say the Old Ways aren’t necessarily dark, fine. But I don’t want Teddy to have to go through what we did. Fleur and Bill are trying for a baby. There’s no way I’m letting those kids fight in a war. You’re in a position to make real change, Harry. So, do it. Change the fucking world. Or there might not be a world left.”

He stormed off up the stairs. Harry could hear his door on the top level slam.

“What was that?” Ginny asked mildly.

Harry frowned. “I’m not sure.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! I've moved back to uni and have a heap on my plate - not to mention I had severe writer's block. Thanks for your feedback on the last few chapters! More to come xx

Harry stepped through the DMLE floo seconds after an owl informing him of an emergency meeting had arrived, assuming he’d be the first. Instead, he was greeted by four accusing stares.

“Late night?” Proudfoot asked, an eyebrow raised. Savage crossed her arms, and Kai looked at him with interest. Elfie was wearing an expression that Harry couldn’t read.

Fortunately, Harry didn’t have time to respond because Cragg and Robards swept into the room.

Robards nodded in greeting. “I assume you’ve all read the Prophet?” Everyone murmured sounds of assent and a few cast blatant glances at Harry. Robards ignored them and continued. “In addition to a full confession, Greyback left us a helpful little note that gives us enough information to take down the other Death Eaters.”

“How thoughtful of him,” Savage muttered.

Robards raised an eyebrow but pressed on. “According to Greyback, Jugson and gang have three safe houses. One of these, we already knew about, and they haven’t been back since the battle. One is in Scotland, nowhere near where they’ve been spotted, and one, a muggle warehouse, just outside Ottery-St.-Catchpole. I suggest we swarm it this afternoon.”

“We have managed to locate the blueprints for the warehouse,” Cragg said. “It last went for sale in 1968, so we can assume it has some pretty powerful protections over it, probably made by Voldemort himself. We should be prepared to have to perform blood sacrifice to see the building.”

Harry remembered his trip with Dumbledore to the sea cave in his sixth year. From the protections on that location, he wasn’t hopeful that the only protection on this warehouse would be as simple as a blood sacrifice.

The seven gathered around a conjured desk in the centre of the room as Cragg spread out the blueprint.

“We’ll approach from a distance and attempt to take down as many protective wards as we can before they notice,” Robards declared. “Kai, Cragg, you will take the left-back exit, Elfie and I will take the right. Proudfoot, Savage and Potter, you take the front.” He looked up and caught everybody’s eye before turning and pausing on Harry. “Remember, we want them alive.”

Harry blinked. “Why does everyone think I’m hell-bent on killing all Death Eaters all of a sudden?” he asked, feigning curiosity. He’d never been a particularly good actor, but it was important for him to find out how much the Auror’s knew of his involvement last night.

Savage’s lip quirked. “Are you?”

Harry paused. Was he? George seemed to be. Hermione was staunchly against it. Ron, Ginny and Bill had seemed largely impartial, but, deep down, he knew that each of them would follow his lead. He trusted Hermione and Ron implicitly, but he knew that no matter the situation, they would always follow his lead. Hermione would break her morals for him time and time again and Ron would follow him to death’s door if Harry required it of him.

He glanced at the aurors in this room. He wondered if they’d decide follow him, like Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Neville and Luna and all of Dumbledore’s Army and all of the Order of the Phoenix had. He had no right to expect this, of course – he’d only known them for two days. He didn’t even want them to, he thought. He’d always hated his fame, had always hated that those around him always seemed to have to risk their lives for his. He thought about Fred. Glancing at Elfie, he was reminded of Colin’s still body after the Battle. He was so young – had so much in his future. He would have made an excellent journalist. A real one – not gossipy and corrupt and biased like Rita Skeeter, or as fundamentally mad as Xenophilius Lovegood (he loved the man’s daughter but Harry was willing to admit that they both were a little strange). He thought of Teddy and wondered about the life that he would grow up to have. What would he be like? Would he be a professor like his father? An auror like his mother? A criminal like Sirius (Harry certainly hoped not)? Whatever he became, though, he would be free to choose. Unlike Colin, and Fred, and Lavender, and all the other students who had died fighting for the world they wanted to live in – a world where Voldemort and his Death Eaters couldn’t and didn’t rule.

“A lot of people have died,” Harry said finally. “I’ll do what I can to keep that number as low as possible.” He didn’t have to voice that he would kill again if it made saving the lives of many.

Savage unfolded her arms and nodded. The rest of the group said nothing, but everyone was suddenly far less tense than it had been when he walked into the room.

“Get something to eat and suit up. Portkeys leave in an hour.” Robards instructed and left the room, his dark red cloak flapping behind him in a way that reminded Harry – almost fondly – of Snape. Cragg followed with less flair.

“Well, Potter,” Proudfoot drawled, smirking. “Who knew you to be such a utilitarian?”

Harry rolled his eyes. Proudfoot’s snide remarks were almost as bad as Malfoy’s. “You weren’t in Slytherin, were you?” he asked.

“Why?” Savage glared. “Got a problem with that?”

Harry smiled. Less than a year ago, he would have said yes, absolutely. But, with all that had happened, he couldn’t help but think that cunning and ambitious Slytherins were highly useful. “No,” he said honestly. “The hat was pretty confident I should have been in Slytherin, actually.”

Elfie raised a delicate eyebrow. “You are full of surprises, Harry.”

Kai rolled his eyes at the lot of them. “You all take house loyalty way too seriously,” he said. “I’m hungry. Let’s go and eat.”

Harry laughed and chatted with the others, barely noticing when they’d left the relative safety of the Auror headquarters. Whispers followed him everywhere, so Harry paid them no mind until they’d reached the stairs leading down to the atrium, and a dozen reporters started shouting his name.

“Damnit,” Harry swore, glancing at the others. He hadn’t thought to take his Auror robes off. “I don’t know if Robards wanted people to know yet.”

Kai clapped him on the back. “Well, they know now in either case,” he said and led the group down the stairs.

Harry ignored the questions that were thrown at him until he was in front of the memorial fountain that had replaced Voldemort’s ‘Magic is Might’ statue. He held up a hand to halt their shouts. He wished he’d had the foresight to plan something to say. “It is a great honour to be working with the Aurors. I understand that it is your job to capture this kind of news, but I implore you to remember that this is a place of work and understand that the people who work here are unable to do their jobs properly if you lot are camped out here day in and day out. I trust that you’ve taken enough pictures?”

With their nods of agreement, Harry continued. “I promise that there will be an opportunity – a more appropriate opportunity – for you to ask questions shortly. Until then, I’d be most grateful if you could treat the Ministry with the respect it deserves and try not to disturb it during working hours.”

The reporters took a few more photos and asked a few more questions, but, after it became clear that Harry was not going to give them anything else, rather guiltily filed out of the building.

“Sorry guys, I should have done a notice-me-not,” he said.

Savage grinned back at him. “Eh, mum will be pleased I’m in the paper. Besides, you got them to leave us alone finally1 Really, that should warrant you with another Order of Merlin.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Please no more,” he whined. “The robes I had to wear at that ceremony were hideous.”

Elfie shrugged. “Witch Weekly said you looked most dashing.”

“Why on earth would you read that rubbish?” Savage asked accusingly. “That magazine is the singular reason Britain didn’t have witch’s suffrage until 1980.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realise it was that recent,” he said, shocked. He knew he’d get an earful from Hermione about not paying attention in History of Magic. His stomach curled at the thought that his mum had probably not had the chance to vote before she died.

“It seems quite unbelievable, doesn’t it?” Elfie smiled at Harry’s grimace. “I’d like to clarify, I do not read that magazine. I simply listen when other people are gossiping.” She raised a thin eyebrow. “There is nothing in this world that is more important than knowing what and whom people gossip about.”

Savage looked like she was going to argue, but Harry thought Elfie had a point. Gossip and rumours in the Wizarding World were nearly always false but were a good indication of what the common man was thinking, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had long since learned to keep up to date with whatever nonsense the Prophet was printing, even – no, especially – when it was about himself.

Kai steered them into the cafeteria and indicated to a large table. As they sat down, a plate of sandwiches floated over with two jugs of pumpkin juice. Proudfoot helped himself to two, eating quickly.

“Woah, Proudfoot,” Kai grinned. “It’s as if you don’t know when your next meal will come.”

Harry winced. Savage and Elfie looked distinctly uncomfortable. The war had left many with empty stomachs.

“Shit,” Kai said. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Proudfoot waved him off. “I’ve always been like this – never had manners. Isn’t that right, Savage?”

Savage smiled. “At Hogwarts, he used to be able to eat five slices of toast before the eggs even arrived at Breakfast.”

Harry grinned, reminded of Ron. It really was a shame that Ron no longer wanted to be an Auror – he would fit in well with this crowd. “I always loved that about Hogwarts – that there was always so much food.”

Proudfoot, Savage and Elfie nodded in agreement.

“What was Ilvermorny like?” Elfie asked Kai. Harry looked up with interest. He had always been fascinated to hear Fleur’s stories of Beauxbaton’s and Krum’s of Durmstrang when they were waiting impatiently in some tent or another during the Triwizard Tournament.

Kai shrugged. “Well, it was pretty cool – living in a magical castle and all that. From what I gather, though, it was a bit more like a normal muggle highschool than Hogwarts. We had to take a certain amount of non-magical subjects. Math, Literature, Science, Muggle History.”

Harry found himself nodding. “I always thought it was strange that we didn’t have Maths or English.”

“I think your friend, Miss Granger, is working on a petition for the Wizenmagot, actually,” Elfie said conversationally. Harry blinked. He was certain Hermione hadn’t mentioned that. He knew she had ideas for educational reforms, but had never really gone into that much detail.

“Ooft,” Savage laughed. “That’s not going to make her very popular with Teddy when he’s older.”

Harry smiled, but feigned indignation. “Teddy is going to love maths,” he declared. “And he’s going to be really smart and study and always be on time and never lose house points.”

“Good luck with that,” Elfie laughed. “My Kevin hasn’t even opened one of his textbooks in preparation for his OWLs.”

After lunch, the five of them made their way to the Auror changing rooms, where Cragg and Robards were talking quietly between themselves.

Harry made his way to his locker and opened it. Inside, along with his backpack and another pair of shoes that he’d brought the other day, a black vest had magically appeared.

Cragg slapped him on the back. “You probably won’t need it, but that vest is laced with protective spells. An AK can still get through, and a few seriously powerful dark spells, but it should save you from the worst of the damage of other spells. Fair warning: it still hurts like a bitch if you get a _bombarda_ to the chest.”

Harry nodded and took off his robes, slipping the vest over his shirt. It warmed and stretched and tightened until it fit him like a glove. The almost tight pressure around his chest was almost calming in a way. Grounding. He slipped his robes back over his shoulders.

Robards came up to him. “I should’ve warned you about the press.”

“I shouldn’t have been prepared,” Harry said. “Does it muck everything up now that they know what I’m doing?”

Robards shrugged. “They would have found out sooner rather than later. Besides, it made a big difference that you were able to get them to leave.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t point out that he was the reason that they’d been camped out there in the first place.

“Right,” Robards said louder, calling everybody over. He pulled out three tiny shoes from his pocket and enlarged them to their normal sizes. He gave the croc to Kai and Cragg, the latter of whom held the neon green shoe out like it personally offended him. “Left-back.” He gave a bright red heel to Elfie. “Right-back.” Finally, he passed a black boot to Harry, Proudfoot and Savage. “Be sensible. Be quick. Bring them back alive,” Robards said calmly. He glanced at his watch. “10 seconds. Good luck.”

Harry, Proudfoot and Savage gripped on to the boot tightly as they started to spin rapidly and blinked out of existence.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter :) This. was. so. hard. to. write. I am hereby delegating and outsourcing all action scenes from now on. No thank you, sir.  
> This scene is heavily inspired by a duel I read a few years ago, but I have no idea who wrote it originally. If it sounds familiar to you, and you think you know who wrote it originally, please comment so I can give them due credit.  
> Hoping you're all well and have a great week :)

The portkey dropped them off in the bush just off a highway.

Savage cast a location spell. “Yep perfect. Just of the A382. The warehouse should be about half a mile north-east.”

Harry closed his eyes and felt out for magic in the air. Magic was always stronger in natural areas, but this area of Devon seemed so industrial that there was barely anything of note. He pushed his senses further. There. About two-three thousand feet ahead of them, an extremely powerful and darke ward stood erect, protecting the warehouse from anything the aurors may do.

The three made their way to the edge of the wards’ perimeter. Robards’ patronus – a rather large and intimidating brown bear – was waiting for them. “Work on the wards. Try to take them down without alerting them. They’re definitely inside.”

Harry swallowed nervously as the bear dissipated into a fine silvery mist. This was it. The last of the Death Eaters were on the other side of these wards. It was almost over. He reached out with his magic again and felt for the wards.

“ _Praesidium revelio_ ,” Harry cast, revealing a large dark red shield. Harry blinked. Although it was plainly obvious that both were constructed of similar magic, these wards were entirely different from those at Hogwarts. Instead of defensive and protective like the one at Hogwarts, this was overtly offensive. Harry could feel the malignant magic radiating off it deep in his gut.

Closing his eyes again, he reached for the links that he knew were present. “ _Conterum nexum_ ,” Harry muttered, dragging the elder wand in a large circle. He could hear Savage and Proudfoot casting the same thing. Harry reached forward with his magic and started breaking the links at the top of the shield. “Argutus,” he chanted, hoping that by breaking each of the links individually, the death eaters wouldn’t have a clue that someone was bringing down the wards.

All of a sudden, he felt Cragg’s magic on top of his. Harry paused, trying to figure out what the man was doing. His magic swept over the links Harry had been breaking, reconnecting them. He frowned. Surely this was the opposite of what they were trying to achieve? Harry pressed into the magic and observed these new links. Unlike the previous ones, these instead seemed to be largely for show, with a mild protective layer. Anyone underneath these wards would be able to heal much quicker from spell damage than they otherwise would. Harry supposed that, while this would make the Death Eaters recover quickly from whatever they cast at them, so too would his team. Fortunately, the brilliant part of Cragg’s plan meant that there were still wards above the warehouse, and thus, those inside shouldn’t be able to feel a difference.

Harry smiled and went back to casting. “ _Conterum nexum_. _Argutus.”_ He worked in tandem with Cragg, but soon realised that Cragg was working quicker than he was. Harry frowned and holstered his wand. Closing his eyes, he willed each of the links to snap quietly. Subtly. He felt a hum of approval flow through Cragg’s magic. He worked in sections, and, in no time at all, the team had managed to bring down and replace the wards over the warehouse.

Harry shook a few sweat-drenched strands of hair from his eyes as Robards’ bear reappeared.

“On my count,” the bear said. “3, 2, 1.”

Harry kept his wand sheathed, and marched forward with Savage and Proudfoot. As soon as they passed the barrier of the wards, Harry felt a ripple of Cragg’s protective magic envelop him and sighed in relief.

Proudfoot let out a grin at Harry’s reaction. “Feels better than a butterbeer on a freezing day, doesn’t it?”

Savage rolled her eyes. “Honestly, the way you talk about Cragg’s magic is way too similar to the way a fifteen-year-old talks about his first blowjob. It makes everybody uncomfortable.”

“It’s warm and loving and feels like the end of the world but also the beginning of everything,” Proudfoot began while Savage made gagging sounds. Harry grinned, the adrenaline pumping through his body as they approached the warehouse.

Suddenly, a shout was heard and a flash of red light expanded from the warehouse.

Robards’ bear appeared again. “They know we’re here.”

“Thanks, Robards, totally couldn’t have figured that out ourselves,” Savage said sarcastically, rolling up her sleeves and revealing a sleeve of moving tattoos on her left arm.

Proudfoot unholstered his wand. “Bombarda Maxima,” he cast on the rolling door of the warehouse, watching with satisfaction as it exploded.

“Subtlety’s not your speciality, is it?” Harry commented drily.

“Nope,” Proudfoot laughed, taking the lead as they jogged into the building.

The eruption of debris filled the entrance hall and steps with smoke. The entrance was clear, but Harry couldn’t see inside. This was it.

The three made their way inside. Harry could hardly see five feet in front of him, due to the cloud of dust that had enveloped the room. Keeping close to the wall, they advanced slowly, stopping as they reached a body.

“Goyle Sr.,” Savage confirmed when he toed over the body. He’d been standing by the door when it blew; he would have been killed instantly. Leaving the body, they crept forward, emerging from the dust to the main hall of the warehouse. There were piles of clothing in separate corners, clearly being used as makeshift beds. A kettle was plugged in at an outlet and Harry almost laughed at the concept of Death Eaters taking tea. He would have made a comment, maybe, but the image of Goyle’s cold body was front and centre in his mind. Where were the other Death Eaters? The room was quiet. Too quiet.

Harry, Proudfoot and Savage made their way to the staircase and ran up quickly, keeping their backs to the wall as they approached a closed door.

At Proudfoot’s nod, Harry opened the door just enough to peek through with a flick of his hand. At first glance, the room seemed empty, and Harry was about to push the door further open, but Savage caught his hand.

Harry followed her eyes, and noticed a thread pulling taught. A booby trap of some kind. He sliced the thread in half, and pushed the door open gently. Perched on a table next to the door was a Magical Incendiary Device, which no doubt was filled with some sort of poisoned gas. Proudfoot caught on to his thinking, and quickly performed a modified bubble head charm on all three of them.

They slipped quietly inside the room, which was dimly lit with a column of light from a sunlight overhead, illuminating a large circle in the centre of the room, but leaving menacing shadows around the edge of the room. Again, the room appeared silent and empty. Harry’s breathing felt dangerously loud, his heart pounding in his chest. A shiver of – excitement? anxiety? anticipation? – ran down his spine. The door slammed shut behind them. They were trapped.

Harry, Proudfoot and Savage instinctively formed a small triangle, keeping their backs to each other as they eyed the room for signs of life. Harry was about to cast a _lumos_ , hyper-aware of the shadows creeping in around him, but light was shortly provided.

A line of fire started at the far end of the room and snaked along each wall, coming towards them. Then, there was a soft whoosh as the two trails of fire joined at the door behind them, effectively sealing them inside. The flames danced threateningly up the wall, crackling softly, and providing light to every corner of the room. Fiendfyre. Harry’s stomach flipped.

Suddenly, several white masks appeared out of the darkness. The Death Eaters appeared from the shadows, converging on the aurors. Three on Three. Where were the rest of them?

“Harry Potter,” one of the Death Eaters – Jugson, probably – spat. “Aren’t you a bit young to be an auror?”

“Isn’t your master a bit dead to be a Death Eater?” Harry asked. It wasn’t his best line, but he was under pressure.

“What’s your plan, Jugson?” Proudfoot spoke up. “There’s only six - no, five of you left. What do you possibly think you can achieve?”

The death eater grinned as he ripped off his mask. “There are others,” he said, his teeth glinting in the light of the fiendfyre. “There will always be another war.”

The Death Eater to Jugson’s left was holding the fiendfyre, Harry realised. Something about the way he held himself reminded Harry of someone.

“I hope you can hold fiendfyre better than your son, Crabbe,” Harry said. It was a low blow. It felt wrong to mock his son’s death, no matter who his son was. He couldn’t imagine losing Teddy. Still, he needed to end this stalemate.

The man growled and turned his attention to Harry. “Don’t talk about my son, Potter,” he said angrily, dropping the fiendfyre and shooting a stunner at Harry. “Stupefy!”

Harry blocked it easily and sent one back with a glance. “Now!” he said to the others. He heard shouts of other spells and duels behind him as they engaged in battle. The air was soon thick with spells, and Harry soon found himself duelling with both Crabbe and Jugson.

He raised his shield in plenty of time to block a curse from Jugson before diving backwards to avoid an AK from the other. He landed deftly on his feet, before sending a Paralysing curse at the legs of Crabbe. The man conjured a small shield, batting it away to the side. Harry, engaged with Jugson, didn’t notice the AK that Crabbe shot until it was too late to cast a shield.

“AK!” Harry shouted, letting the other two know there was a loose Killing Curse in the air, as he flung himself to the ground. He rolled and was back on his feet in time to send another curse at each of the Death Eaters. Both sidestepped easily. Crabbe aimed the Cruciatus Curse at Harry while Jugson caused half of the wall to Harry’s right to shoot forward. Harry sidestepped the Unforgivable easily, but that put him in the path of the incoming chunk of concrete.

“Reducto,” Harry roared. The curse blew the wall to smithereens and then continued on to blow a three-foot hole in the ceiling, showering Crabbe with chunks of plaster. Jugson took the opportunity to send another AK in Harry’s direction, who summoned a chunk of the broken wall into the path of the curse. As it exploded, Harry charged forward, shield raised.

He surged ahead, sidestepping the next curse and allowing his shield to absorb the impact of the following one with a loud gong-like noise. He saw Crabbe draw his wand back, ready to cast another Unforgivable.

“Avada…”

Harry’s shoulder slammed into the waist of the Death Eater. As they tumbled to the ground, Harry felt the man lose his grip on his wand. Harry grabbed it without pause. Turning his own wand on the man, he rolled away, back onto his feet. He ducked a stray curse flying overhead, before casting an extremely powerful stunner and incarcerous on Crabbe.

“Crucio!”

Harry didn’t even have time to acknowledge his victory over Crabbe, before Jugson unleashed another Unforgivable at him. Harry dived backwards, landing painfully on a piece of debris from the wall. He sat up and hurled a few attacks at the Death Eater. They weren’t specific spells or curses or hexes, but they hit the man hard. Before he could recover, Harry leapt to his feet and cast a paralysing curse at him. It hurtled towards Jugson, who blocked it easily and responded instantly with a curse of his own. They exchanged curses at a phenomenal rate, which would have even stressed the reflexes of Viktor Krum. As soon as Harry blocked one attack, there was another on the way. It soon seemed he hadn’t managed an offensive spell in ages.

Just then, Jugson shot a blasting curse at Harry. He instinctively ducked and the curse rocketed above him. The curse blew the wall apart, the force of it knocked Harry off his feet. He found himself flat on his face in the rubble. He tried to get back up, but then, to his horror, a heavy boot slammed down on his wand arm, pinning it down. He looked up to see a wand pointe at his noise. The Death Eater stood over him, glaring down, malice flashing in his eyes.

Harry growled. He was done trying to fight clean. Closing his eyes, he willed Jugson’s wand to drop. Catching it deftly, Harry used the man’s momentary surprise to roll to his feet. Harry levelled the wand at the man’s face. _Crucio_. Harry thought.

The man let out an unholy scream as he dropped to the floor. Just then, Harry heard the others – Robards, Cragg, Elfie and Kai – finally breach the door. Harry wasn’t paying attention, though. _Crucio_ , he thought again.

The man screamed in agony and writhed in place.

“Harry!” somebody was shouting. He felt an arm on his elbow. “It’s over. Stop.”

Harry paused and let out a breath. Turning around wildly, he saw Savage. He gulped. He hadn’t meant to do that. Hadn’t meant to lose control, and certainly hadn’t meant to cast another Unforgivable.

He sighed and stunned Jugson before tying him up.

“Where’s Proudfoot?” he asked, his voice rough and scratchy.

Savage had a large cut just beneath her hairline and blood was dripping down the side of her face. “Took a _bombarda_ to the chest. They’re taking him to Mungo’s. He’ll be fine.”

“What happened?” Harry asked, turning to Robards accusingly.

“Couldn’t get in. Bastards had this place down like lock and key. Lestranges caught up to us. Both got away,” Robards said roughly. Harry’s stomach flipped. “What was all that just then?” Robards asked, just as accusingly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. He could have easily stunned and tied up Jugson without using the Cruciatus curse. He glanced down at the wand still clutched in his hand. He hadn’t used the Elder Wand to cast it, either. With a few cursory checks, the Ministry could easily confirm that he’d used an Unforgivable. He glanced up at Robards.

Robards sighed and grabbed the wand. “ _Aufer priori incantatem._ ” He glanced up at Harry, who nodded, and rolled his eyes and cast the spell again. “I don’t know that spell,” Robards said firmly. “You don’t know that spell.”

Harry nodded quickly. For someone who had spent most of his life angry at the Ministry’s corruption, he was certainly very quickly getting comfortable with it. _Hypocrite_ , the Hermione-like voice sounded in his mind.

Robards levitated the bodies of Jugson, Crabbe, and Avery – absolutely wrecked by Proudfoot and Savage – and left Harry and Savage to be fussed over by two medi-witches.

By the time Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, Ron took one look at his face before pulling him into a hug.

“I smell like blood,” Harry warned. “And sweat.”

Ron shrugged and wrapped his arms around him anyway. “You often do. Still need a hug sometimes.”

Hermione walked in, holding Teddy in her arms. “Oh Harry. How did it go?”

Harry pulled away from Ron regretfully. “Lestrange brothers got away. We got the rest, but Goyle was dead when we got there.”

“Poor Neville. I was hoping we could give him some good news tonight,” Hermione commented. Harry groaned. He’d completely forgotten that he’d agree to go out with everybody tonight. He’d been hoping to spent a quiet night in with Teddy.

“Don’t groan; it’ll be fun,” Ron said. “We all need to get out of the house.”

Hermione grinned. “Plus, Malfoy will be there.”

Harry sighed, not even acknowledging that last comment. “I know. Is Molly alright to take Teddy?”

“Obviously. She loves that kid more than me,” Ron said grinning.

Harry wandered upstairs to have a shower. As he passed the place where Walburga Black’s portrait used to hang, Harry shuddered. He couldn’t wait to get out of this house.

As he let the water run over his body, washing away the blood and dust and grime and dirt of the day’s fight, Harry tried to ignore the way his hands were shaking. A medi-witch had told him he had a mild concussion. That was the only reason he’d cast the Unforgivable. He was distracted. Wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t turning dark. Not really.

When Harry returned to his living room, he was treated to the sight of Draco Malfoy very carefully cradling Teddy in his arms as he spoke quietly to Hermione. Harry stood still and just watched, knowing he should make his presence known, but enchanted by the sight of his once-enemy – now friend? – war hardened, posh, stoic, Draco Malfoy, very gently, very carefully rocking his godson back and forth. It was the first time Harry had seen the man interact with the baby, and, although he looked highly uncomfortable, Harry couldn’t help but think Draco looked incredibly attractive standing in Harry’s living room, holding Harry’s godson, wearing incredibly tight black jeans.

“Oh good, you’re ready,” Hermione said, noticing Harry. “Ron and I are going to drop off Teddy. Can you side-along with Draco? You have a concussion and I don’t want you apparating on your own.”

Hermione knew perfectly well that Harry was more than capable of apparating with a full head wound, but from the smirk that Ron was barely concealing, he knew it was part of her PlanTM to get Harry to ask Malfoy out.

Harry rolled his eyes but agreed readily, not going to pass up an opportunity to get closer to the blond.

“Hermione told me you got Avery, Jugson, Crabbe and Goyle,” Malfoy said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s definitely confidential,” he said.

Draco shrugged. “She thought I might want to warn Goyle about his dad.”

“Do you want to stop by his place?” Harry asked, mentally kicking himself for not even considering Goyle.

Malfoy gave him a distinctly weird look. “I didn’t think you’d want to do that. I sent him a letter. He’ll probably want to grieve alone tonight, anyway. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Okay. You sure you still want to come tonight?”

“Trying to get rid of me, Potter?” Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ron slapped Malfoy on the back, before collecting Teddy from his arms. “Harry’s just trying to get out of having fun for once.”

“Come on then, Potter. Let’s go have some fun,” Malfoy said, proffering his arm for Harry to take. Harry hesitated for only a moment, before clutching his arm.

“See you later boys,” Hermione said, stepping into the floo.

Ron followed her with Teddy. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he called as he disappeared.

Harry felt his face flush bright, but Malfoy was apparating before he could say anything, their bodies leaving Grimmauld Place with a loud CRACK.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters for you today! I've been swamped with uni stuff, and I'm about to go into exams, so, hopefully, this will tide you over until I can write more. I've amped up the flirting a bit, and also made Draco more Draco-ish. I hope you enjoy. Keep sending lovely comments and kudos!  
> P.S. I thought I should mention that the movies 'Outlaw King' (2018) and 'The King' (2019) are two of my favourite ever movies and that everything I do is inspired by them.  
> P.P.S. I'm not sorry for all the Shakespeare quotes - warning: they will only get more abundant as this story develops.

With a pop, Harry and Malfoy landed in a shady corner about five blocks from the muggle pub Neville had booked. He glanced at the blond questioningly.

Malfoy scoffed. “Not all of us are blessed with the power to apparate to wherever we like. Normal people are required to use Ministry-sanctioned apparition spots.”

Harry blinked. He hadn’t even known there was such a thing. “Sorry. I didn’t know. Never passed my test.” He frowned. He should probably tell Robards. It was probably not good that a Ministry employee was regularly breaking the law by apparating without a license.

“Well, you were a bit busy,” Malfoy reasoned, surprising Harry. He’d expected him to go for an easy jab at Harry getting special treatment.

“I should probably sit the test,” Harry admitted. “I’d completely forgotten about it. I don’t want to get special treatment.”

Malfoy quirked a smile. “I know. But you will. Always. And, to be honest, I’m glad you do. It would make my job a lot harder if you didn’t. Besides, it’s good for the people who care about you. The special treatment you get keeps you safe and allows you to be the sanctimonious self-sacrificing and stubborn-headed prat you are.”

Years ago – even half a year ago – Harry would have let Malfoy’s words rile him up, but now all Harry could think about was the man’s insinuation that he cared for Harry. Instead of commenting, however, he simply nodded.

“I sent out the invitations to the Pledge and the Ball, by the way. Kreacher procured a rather magnificent Eagle Owl. You’ll need to name him,” Malfoy told him. Harry felt a gentle tug at his heart as he thought of Hedwig. Malfoy continued, “Hermione and Weasley looked over the guest list. Is there anybody else you’d like to invite that the three of us might have forgotten?”

Harry shook his head but raised an eyebrow at his use of Hermione’s given name. “Hermione? Not Granger?”

The highpoint of Malfoy’s cheeks flushed pink. “Well, since we’re both your unofficial secretaries, it seemed prudent to be friendlier. Besides, Hermione is a good name. It’s a character in Shakespeare, you know. Fits her well actually – she’s just as virtuous and beautiful as her namesake. Stronger though – I can’t imagine Granger dying of heartbreak any time soon, can you?”

Harry smiled. “’Course not. Ron’s not likely to break her heart in any case. It’s actually disgusting how much he loves her.”

“Love can make people do terrible things,” Malfoy shrugged. “Anyway, don’t expect me to refer to Weasley by anything other than his last name, unless you want me to demonstrate my proficiency at coming up with fantastic insults. Besides, learning his first name would require me knowing which of the red-head brood he actually is.”

Harry grinned, fairly confident Malfoy was joking. “What about me then?” he asked after a moment. As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Why did he have to voice that particular thought? It wasn’t like Harry and Malfoy were friends. Friendly, certainly. And perhaps there were unspoken feelings between the two, but, as far as he could tell, they were entirely one sided. He was an idiot.

Malfoy didn’t hesitate. “You’ll have to earn the privilege, Potter,” he smirked, his tone haughty.

Harry grinned. “Well, _Draco_ , I’ll try my hardest.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but his cheeks tinged pink again. They walked in silence for a bit. Harry wondered if George was going to come tonight, and if he’d have forgiven Harry by then. He wondered if he’d be okay with Draco being there. He was sure Ron would have warned him, but the war was still fresh for George – fresher, perhaps, then for anyone else. It wasn’t easy for any of them, but every time George looked in the mirror, he’d see a reflection of Fred. Harry wondered if it was like looking in a grief-ridden version of the Mirror of Erised.

They neared the last block. Draco paused, looking at Harry. “You are aware that we’re entering a war council, yes?”

“What?” Harry asked. He blinked. He supposed, to Draco, it would be like a war council – not many people invited had particularly fond feelings for him. “If you don’t want to come, you absolutely don’t have to. But I promise everyone will be on their very best behaviour. There’s nothing a few drinks and conversations about quidditch can’t make less awkward. Besides, Neville said he’s on your side. And you know Luna, Hermione, Ron and I are.”

Draco looked at him curiously. “I appreciate your concern, Potter. I really do. And yes, it will be uncomfortable, and I will hate every moment of it, but that is not what I was talking about. We are walking into a war council, because every person in there is fully aware that you tortured and killed Fenrir Greyback,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Harry inhaled sharply. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be daft. There are exactly five people who know the spell that you cast on me in sixth year. One of them is dead. I know it wasn’t me. And there’s precisely one of your Golden Trio who is powerful enough to cast it,” Malfoy snapped. “Do me the courtesy of recognising my general intelligence, Potter.”

Harry swallowed. In hindsight, casting _sectumsempra_ hadn’t been his brightest idea. He eyed Draco cautiously, unsure as to how to respond without incriminating himself or Ron or Hermione or Bill.

Draco huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to turn you in, you idiot. I’m fairly sure it was sanctioned, anyway, so I’m not sure what good that would do. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, it’s good riddance.” He paused and eyed Harry. “I would appreciate a forewarning, next time, as your unofficial publicist. It could all go rather pear-shaped very quickly if someone were to find out.”

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t been aware that he was holding. “Why will this be a war council?” he asked, not directly acknowledging Draco’s – albeit accurate – aspersions.

“You are a general, Potter,” Draco said, not unkindly. “A king, if you will. Every person in that room knows what you did and will expect that you are mobilising an army. Against whom, I’m not sure, but you inspire loyalty. Everybody in that room will follow you without question.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “Before it was easy, you know? There was a clear enemy. It was obvious who we were fighting against. Who are we fighting against now? Blood purists who are mainly just ignorant? Hermione thinks we should fight them with knowledge. Ignorance is the enemy of progression and all that. The Death Eaters? Most of them are in Azkaban. George doesn’t think Azkaban is good enough, and that we should go on some sort of vigilante mission and kill them all. Corruption at the Ministry? How does one even begin to fight that, without scrapping the whole thing and starting over again? Do we fight all of them? None of them? I don’t know.”

Draco was silent for a bit. “What do you think? In the end, it doesn’t matter what Hermione, the Weasleys or even I think. You’re the King. Who do you want to fight?”

“No one,” Harry answered quickly. He sighed. “Everyone.” He rubbed his scar. It wasn’t hurting specifically, not like it used to, but he was developing quite a strong tension headache. “Everyone’s been quoting Shakespeare recently,” he said after a minute. “Bill told me about some woman who thought she had blood on her hands and went mad trying to get it off.”

“Lady Macbeth,” Draco said. He quirked a smile. “I was about to offer you Richard II. ‘Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood with solemn reverence; throw away respect, tradition, form, and ceremonious duty; for you have but mistook me all this while.’”

Harry knew exactly what that meant, even though he was fairly sure what had just come out of Draco’s mouth was another language. “I don’t want to be King,” Harry said quietly. “Would you want to?”

“Be King?” Draco considered. “As a Slytherin, I suspect I’m meant to say yes. Ambition and all that. But, honestly, no. I’m quite content to be on the sideline, using their power for my own nefarious purposes. Besides, Kings have a habit of dying young, and I’m a Malfoy first. Self-preservation is the essence of my moral fibre.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry said quietly. “You care about preserving the lives of people you love, too.”

Malfoy snorted softly but nodded with reluctance. “Yes. I do.”

“I was meant to be Slytherin, according to the Hat,” Harry said. “But I don’t think I’m particularly ambitious or cunning.”

Malfoy actually laughed. “You, Harry Potter, are about the most ambitious person I’ve ever met. Only someone deeply ambitious would have been able to do all that you’ve done. Even now, you’re determined to somehow fight everyone and change the world, while simultaneously fighting nobody and maintaining the peace. You’re illogical, definitely, but incredibly ambitious.”

Harry grinned, but quickly sobered, considering his options. “So, a war council you say? What do I do?”

“You trust everybody in there, correct?” Draco asked. At Harry’s nod, he continued. “Tell them the truth. You are the King, but nobody there has any illusions that you’re not also a seventeen-year-old trying his hardest.”

Harry nodded, but didn’t make a move to go in. “I think I’m scared I’m turning into Him,” Harry said after a minute.

Draco, very helpfully, didn’t say anything.

“He was normal in the beginning. Well, not really, but he was a lot like me, I think. A fucked-up childhood. Ambitious. Idealistic. And the more dark magic he did, the darker he became. I – I worry that I’ll slip. I can feel the darkness already. I don’t want to be evil,” Harry said quietly. “Sirius once told me that we all have good and evil inside us, and that the only thing that matters is what we choose to act on, but I’m starting to think I’ve got more evil in me than other people.”

Draco looked thoughtful. “You probably do have more evil in you than others – you spent seventeen years with a part of His soul in you. That has to add something to you. But I don’t think that makes you a bad person. Sure, you are drawn to the dark, but you actively aim for light – working against your own nature to do good is far nobler than just being good.”

“You really believe that?” Harry had never thought of it that way.

Draco smiled. “I have to,” he said pointedly. He gestured towards the muggle pub. “Are you ready?”

Harry paused. According to Draco, he was a king. Kings were probably always ready for this kind of thing. He braced himself, but quickly relaxed. Draco wasn’t wrong, necessarily, this was going to be a war council, but his council were on his side – they always would be. They would all follow him to hell and back, but Harry knew that all of them would set him right if he made a wrong decision. They wouldn’t follow blindly. They were his council – his advisors, his friends, his family. They loved him and Harry loved them. It didn’t matter who they were _against_ ; ultimately, they always fought _for_ each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeep! It's my favourite part of any D/H story - last names to first names. Hope you guys enjoyed!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god there are a lot of characters in this story. I promise more Teddy content will come soon.

“Could you tell me to open the door for you, please?” Draco asked awkwardly as they approached the pub.

“Oh hell. I forgot. Are you okay?” Harry asked. He scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t particularly fancy ordering Draco around all the time.

Draco frowned. “I’m sure that’s not how this is supposed to work.” He cracked a smirk. “I’m okay, but Hermione was doing some research. She thinks she can modify our bond so that it doesn’t require this kind of thing, but, until then, she wants us to do it a bit so that it’s at least sated enough that it doesn’t come out during an argument.”

Harry nodded. He still felt uncomfortable, but he really didn’t want to see Draco in pain like he had the other day. “Erm. Open the door for me.”

Draco rolled his eyes but opened the door. He shivered as magic flowed over him. “Eloquent as always,” he cheeked, pulling back the door for Harry to walk through.

“We’re changing the bond tomorrow. I hate this,” Harry muttered as he made his way into the pub, trying his best to look like he deserved doors to be opened for him.

Draco nodded. “Quite alright with me. I like bossing you around, anyway,” he grinned. “Now, tell me to go and get us drinks. The others are in the back room. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Harry smiled. “I’m not sure ordering me to order you around is going to help the bond, Draco. Besides, do you really want to go in alone?”

Draco shrugged. “Not especially, but you need a few minutes alone with them so they can badger you with all the questions they won’t want to ask when I’m there.”

“Fine,” Harry waved a hand. “Go get us drinks then, please.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s awfully good that you’re not actually a king, Potter. You’re not very good at giving orders,” he drawled as he walked over to the bar.

Harry made his way to the back room, from which he could feel magic radiating strongly, and which had the tell-tale deafening wall of a sound-proof privacy ward. He probably should have knocked, and waited for the caster to grant him entry, but the ward barely resisted him as he walked in. He winced when he felt the ward snap.

“Sorry,” he apologised to no one in particular. He re-erected the ward quickly with a wave of his hand (making sure that the ward would grant Draco access), before turning to face everyone.

“Harry,” Seamus roared. “I’m getting married! Sláinte!”

“Congratulations, Seamus,” Harry laughed. “You’ve had a few pints already then?”

Dean rolled his eyes affectionately at his fiancé. “He was a bit nervous about seeing Malfoy,” he admitted, rising to clap Harry on the back. “It’s great to see you, though.”

Harry grinned and returned the gesture. “You too. I promise he’s not that bad.”

“S’not true,” Seamus complained stubbornly. “I’m not nervous to see him.”

“Well, he’s nervous to see you all, too,” Harry admitted, sure Draco would positively murder him if he knew Harry had said that. “I know he was a right dick before, but I genuinely think he’s a good person. He’s trying to be, anyway.”

“Whatever you say, lover boy,” Ron wiggled his eyebrows from across the table. It seemed that he, Hermione, Ginny and George had been there for a while, while Harry and Draco had been talking philosophy.

Harry groaned. “Ssh, he’s just outside. Can you keep nothing to yourself?” he complained, grabbing his friend’s pint and helping himself.

“Hey,” Ron grabbed his glass back.

“Alright, George?” Harry asked awkwardly.

George stood and shook his hand in a manner most uncharacteristic for him. “Sorry about this morning. I’m struggling a bit with my temper at the moment,” he admitted.

Harry pulled him in for a manly imitation of a hug. “I’m sorry too. You weren’t entirely wrong. I do need to get my head out of my arse.”

George grinned and slapped Harry on the backside. “Nah, I like your arsely crown.”

Ron gagged as Harry shrieked. “What does that even mean?”

“I have no idea, but it sounded good. Maybe we make pranks that look like crowns but then turn into arseholes if you’re being a dickhead?” he suggested, turning to Ron, launching into a heated conversation about products and target markets and marketable items.

Harry rolled his eyes and quickly kissed Ginny on the cheek, squeezing Hermione’s shoulder as he walked past. “Didn’t Bill want to come?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I know we just went on a death-defying mission with him, Harry, but Bill is almost thirty-years-old, has a wife and is trying for a baby. He probably has better things to do than spend his evening drinking with teenagers.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Harry said mildly. He’d almost forgotten that Bill was nearly twice his age. “We should go and see him and Fleur soon,” he commented.

“They’ve invited us to dinner on the 5th,” Ginny supplied. “Fleur wants Draco to come too – says she’s missing speaking French.”

Harry nodded and made his way over to Neville and Luna, who were sitting quietly at the other end of the table. He noticed they were holding hands and smiled slightly.

Neville rose to clasp his hand. “Alright, Harry?”

“Yeah, Nev. It’s good to see you. You too, Luna,” he grinned, kissing the latter on the cheek.

Luna smiled up at him, not moving from her seat. “Sorry for not standing, Harry. This room is absolutely full with nargles, and Dad has a theory that they’re less likely to attack you when you’re seated.”

“Noted,” Harry said, grateful for the excuse to collapse into a seat at the end of the table. “How’ve you both been?”

Luna smiled. “Not too bad. You’ve been busy,” she noted. “Your aura’s changed.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “What happened to it?” he asked cautiously. He had long since learnt that one shouldn’t simply humour Luna, but actually listen to her advice. She was a Ravenclaw, after all.

“It used to be more red. Your head’s nearly blindingly golden, and your left side is a bit darker,” she said.

Harry frowned. Golden was good right? It didn’t sound particularly evil. What did a dark left side mean? “Is that a good thing?”

Luna shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad, necessarily. It looks like your worried or feeling guilty about something, though.”

Harry sighed heavily. “Well, you’re not wrong.” He turned to Neville guiltily. “I’m definitely not meant to tell anyone this, but you should know. We almost got the Lestrange brothers today, but they got away. I’m so sorry. We won’t stop until we find them.”

Neville let out a huff. “It’s alright. You’ll get them eventually,” he said, smiling, but Harry could see a flicker of disappointment.

“I’m really sorry, Nev,” Harry said quietly.

Neville swallowed. “No, Harry, it’s really okay. You got the others, right?”

Harry nodded. Even though he was technically only talking to Neville, he could feel the others listening in. “Goyle was dead when we got there. Avery, Jugson and Crabbe are in custody. We think we know all their safehouses, but not sure that’ll be a great help anymore. Not sure how smart the Lestranges are. They know we know at least one of their safehouses, and presumably they’ve seen the paper, so they’ll know Greyback gave us information. If I were them, I’d not risk going to another safehouse.”

“I think Rabastan’s the brains,” Neville said. “Rodolphus always seemed a bit stupid to me.”

Harry stored that information quietly. “Do you know anything else?”

Neville shook his head. “Sorry.” He paused, and then said quietly. “Do you think, once the Ministry is done with them, I could give their wands to Gran? I think she’d like that.”

“I’ll have a word with Kingsley,” Harry promised. “Is that… like a thing? I didn’t know.”

Neville took a long draw of his pint. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not a common thing, but it’s old tradition for you to take ownership of the wand of a person who has wronged you. I don’t think Gran’d want ownership, but it’s a nice gesture, you know?”

Harry nodded. He supposed he had the wand of the person who wronged him. Well, not really, considering Voldemort never actually had ownership of the Elder Wand, but close enough. He wondered if Tom Riddle’s old wand was still floating around somewhere.

Comfortable silence wrapped up the room, until Ginny cleared her throat. “Harry, want to say a word before a certain blond joins us?”

Harry swallowed. Without realising it, he’d sat at the head of the table. Again. “Erm. Well, he knows everything, so if you want to ask me questions about the past couple of days, you can while he’s here. It’s really weird to say, but I trust him. I don’t expect you guys to, but yeah, if it’s worth anything, I do.”

Everybody nodded solemnly. Harry paused, but then decided to follow Draco’s advice and be honest. “I really don’t know what I’m doing. Malfoy told me to come in here expecting a war council, and, while I think that’s a bit dramatic, I do understand what he meant. We are a council. We advise each other. Well, really, Hermione advises all of us and we just do what she says. But I guess what I’m trying to say is, we’re a team, you know?” He rubbed a hand over his scar. “People keep asking who we’re fighting against, and I’m not entirely sure. But I know who I’m fighting for.”

“Almost as inspiring as Henry V, Potter,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Everybody swivelled to look at Draco, no doubt with warring expressions of acceptance and distrust. Draco took it in stride, though, quietly coming to Harry’s left and placing two pints on the table. He took a deep breath. “Thank you for inviting me, Heir Longbottom,” he said formally.

Neville rose and reached out a hand for him to shake. “My pleasure, Lord Malfoy.”

Draco looked surprised but shook the offered hand without hesitation. He turned to everybody else. “Despite Longbottom’s generosity, I am not worthy of your forgiveness. I know I’ve already said this all in letters already, but I think it needs to be said out loud. I wasn’t just a right dickhead, Potter. I was a terrorist and a racist. Nothing I will ever do will atone for the sins I committed against you, against Muggles, against the Wizarding World and against humanity,” he said gravely.

Harry was about to interrupt, but Hermione gave him a warning glare.

“I hope you know that I am sorry – so much so that I cannot express in words – and I hope you know that I will spend the rest of my borrowed time on earth to try to make up for my past. But know, also, that I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I do not deserve kindness. I was going to make a Wizard’s Oath, promising as much, but definitions of ‘good’ can be misinterpreted by magic and I don’t want to make an Oath that is wrong. Instead,” he said, turning to an alarmed Harry before bending a knee. “I, Lord Malfoy, solemnly swear that I will spend the rest of my life, which I owe to Lord Potter, working towards the light, and avoiding the dark.”

Harry shuddered as the magic flowed over him. “You dumb shit!” he exclaimed, pulling Draco to his feet. “Haven’t we got enough bonds and vows and debts? The magic will fuck with us, and I don’t want to order you around anymore. Do you not remember what happened the other day?”

Draco shrugged. “A Wizard’s Oath doesn’t have consequences, besides warning you if I actively go against it, and I don’t intend to ever work for the Dark again. It’s fine. Hermione said it wouldn’t interact with the Life Debt.”

“I actually said I didn’t _think_ it would. Doesn’t mean you go and cast another Oath anyway!” Hermione exclaimed, clearly just as exasperated as Harry. She took in Harry’s alarmed face and sighed. “Okay, so I’ve done quite a bit of research, and I’m 99% confident it won’t affect it, but, Draco, that was incredibly irresponsible!”

Harry calmed instantly. If Hermione was pretty sure it’d be okay, it would probably be okay. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He pulled Draco closer and lowered his voice. “The debt needs orders? Fine. No more stupid Oaths, Vows, Pledges or Debts unless you talk to me first,” Harry nearly growled.

Draco smirked as the magic of the Debt settled over the both of them. “Never knew you were so possessive, Potter,” he drawled.

“Shut up,” Harry groaned. He paused. “That wasn’t an order,” he added quickly. He took his seat, indicating Draco take the one to his left, between himself and Neville, and downed his drink in one go. He turned to Hermione. “Draco said you might have an idea about the Debt?”

“Yeah, I think we can modify it so that Draco doesn’t need orders anymore, but…” she trailed off.

Ginny piped up. “Out with it, then, ‘Mione. You heard Harry. We’re a team – no secrets.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but conceded. “The modification I found is very similar to a marriage bond. It’s from ancient Rome meant for masters to marry their indentured slaves, which is incredibly immoral, but, also, means that you might have a transfer of feelings. Definitely not thoughts, but probably feelings. And, you’ll be able to communicate with each other telepathically.”

Harry frowned. “Legilimency?”

“No, you won’t be able to access thoughts you don’t want the other to see, but I just mean it’s a bit more intense than what you’ve already got. Not to mention, it’s ancient and therefore incredibly risky,” Hermione warned.

Harry turned to Draco and looked at him carefully. “Up to you,” he said after a moment.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Next time you propose to someone, I suggest you get down on one knee and locate a ring,” he said sarcastically. “What do you think?” he asked Hermione.

“I’m pretty confident it’ll work,” Hermione said after considering for a moment. “And you won’t actually have a marriage bond. I’m just warning you that it might be more … intimate than you’re used to.”

Draco sighed. “You literally control my life. I’d rather a bit more interdependence, if that’s okay with you,” he said quietly to Harry.

“Merlin’s tits, this is like watching kink negotiation,” Seamus scoffed, ignoring Dean’s elbow as it jabbed into his side. “Right, enough with all that. Let’s get drunk and talk about taking over the world.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! I'm so sorry for the radio silence - I've only just finished my exams for this year. Also, I literally had to rewrite this five times before I was remotely happy with it. I know it's short but there is more to come shortly. xx

“Right, let’s get down to business,” Hermione said, standing up, and Harry very gratefully gave up the attention of their small group to her. “Draco?”

Draco startled slightly, clearly still not used to being referred to by his first name. His cheeks went pink as he waved his wand and several pieces of parchment floated to each person.

Harry blinked in surprise. Neither had mentioned anything about paperwork to him. He frowned when Hermione placed a small vial on the table.

“Hermione,” he hissed. “Why’d you bring that?”

She avoided his eyes. “Okay, what you have before you are magical contracts, imbued with the power of a Wizard’s Oath,” she said, pressing on despite Harry’s splutters of indignation. “It’s really very similar to the contract I had you sign at the beginning of DA. Except, this time, the punishment won’t be some nasty pimples – it’ll be a fairly strong memory charm.”

“Did Marietta ever get rid of those pimples?” George asked interestedly.

Hermione frowned. “No. But the charm would have faded if she ever regretted betraying us.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Luna said mildly. “She found a glamour that can cover most of them last year.”

“I heard she moved to Germany before the war,” Dean commented.

“Brilliant,” Seamus muttered. “The rest of us were fighting a war – she was playing with makeup.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have left if you could have, Finnegan. We all would have.”

Draco waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s forget about Edgecombe. She and her family are alive and I’d say they’re better off than the rest of us. If your Gryffindor sensibilities are really that bad I can probably brew her something to fix it, but, for now, please return your attention to the contracts. Hermione has worked very hard on it.”

“Thank you, Draco,” Hermione smiled. “And Harry, stop frowning. The wind will change.” Most of the purebloods looked confused, but Luna just nodded seriously. Harry tried to de-crease his brow. Hermione continued, “I know that we haven’t really decided what we’re doing yet, but we’re an inch away from staging a coup. We will have to tell each other confidential and potentially dangerous information. We need protection. This contract simply ensures that if you decide to betray us, you’ll suddenly find yourself unable to do so.”

“If the memory charm is activated, you’ll forget everything from the moment you walked in this room. Everything, not just things to do with Potter and his trigger-happy wand,” Draco said plainly. “This is a serious commitment. If you do not wish to sign, please leave.”

“This is a vial of dove’s blood. If you sign with it, it’ll make the contract’s magic more binding,” Hermione explained.

Neville frowned. “That’s a darke object.”

Harry found eighteen eyes staring accusingly at him. He scratched the back of his neck. “Erm, technically, yes.”

Ron reached for the vial without hesitation, unbottled it and signed the contract. “I’m not so sure there is dark magic and light magic, anymore,” he said.

Draco looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean, Weasley?”

“I think more and more I’m starting to realise that magic is just a tool,” Ron shrugged. “You know, it can be used for good and evil. We call it dark magic because we see ways people could abuse it. But, you can use ‘light’ spells to do bad things too. Harry killed Voldemort with an _expelliarmus._ Hermione taught me how to kill the troll with _wingardium leviosa_ in first year. Sirius died because of a _stupefy._ We teach those spells to kids. If you can do bad things with ‘light’ magic, why can’t we do good things with ‘dark’?”

Harry blinked. Ron very rarely voiced his opinion in large groups. Harry and Hermione knew he was brilliant, of course - he always knew what to say when Harry and Hermione got too passionate. He was their voice of reason – a quiet voice of reason amidst the chaos of Hermione’s brilliance and his own fiery emotions.

George clapped his brother on the back. “Always knew you had sense,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket and revealing a label-less bottle of light brown liquid. He slammed it on the table. “Give me the quill.”

He signed before passing the quill to Hermione, who signed just as quickly.

“George, it’s not ready yet,” Ron complained, eyeing the bottle warily.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “It better be better than the last time I tried it.”

“What is it?” Seamus asked curiously.

Ron blushed. “New Wheezes’ product. It a collaboration with Bertie Bott’s and Ogden’s.”

“Wow,” Neville said, picking up the bottle. “What’s it taste like?”

George grinned proudly. “Everything! All ickle Ronnie’s idea!”

“You mean it’s whiskey that has the potential of tasting like earwax or disappointment?” Draco asked. “Brilliant business idea, but no thank you.”

George rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Relax, Malfoy. Ogden didn’t want bad flavours associated with his brand. So, only the good Bertie Bott’s flavours.” He gestured at the parchments being signed around the table. No one had declined to sign yet. “Thought we might need something stronger than lager.”

“What on earth did I drink last night, then?” Ginny asked accusatorily. “It tasted like goblin’s piss!”

“That’s the idea,” George grinned. “Ogden’s recipe. Tastes like goblin’s piss for underage wizards and witches. Still alcoholic, though. Don’t know why he wouldn’t just make it non-alcoholic for the young ‘un’s…”

“Gamp’s law,” Hermione, Draco and, surprisingly, Ron, said at the same time.

Ron blushed. “I wondered the same thing,” he muttered. “Come on, Ginny, I’ll buy you a muggle whiskey. Luna?”

Luna smiled. “I’ll try the goblin piss, thank you. Maybe some water,” she said airily. Ron made his way to the bar, still as bright as a beetroot. Hermione smiled fondly after him. Ginny was still spluttering about being used as a guinea-pig.

Once everyone had signed their contracts – including Harry, after a few shots of sunshine, hot chocolate, and joy – Hermione pulled an empty vial from her bottomless handbag and a small knife from her sleeve.

“Jesus Christ,” Draco muttered.

Hermione ignored him and sliced her thumb open, letting seven drops of blood fall into the jar. “If you could all do the same,” she said. “Oh, and Harry, we need 14 drops from you.”

Everyone complied readily, but Draco muttered darkly, “Have you any idea about how many horrible curses can be cast with access to your blood?”

Harry shuddered, remembering Pettigrew’s cold voice in fourth year: _“blood of the enemy, forcibly given, you will resurrect your foe.”_

“It’s Hermione,” Seamus shrugged. “Worse thing she’ll do with it is make little voodoo dolls of us that make us study or be more organised.”

“I’ll have you know, I’d make an excellent Dark Lord … Dark Lady – Has there ever been a Dark Lady?” Hermione asked.

Ron put his head in his hands. “Let’s focus on changing the world first, okay love? Gender bias in dark overlords can wait.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but everyone knew the first thing she’d do when they got home would be to research it. She pulled out several plain gold rings and dumped the blood onto them. “These work like the coins we had in 5th year – it can display short messages,” she explained. “If you need to send a message, tap it with your wand and say it out loud. If you’re good at occlumency, you might be able to make a message mentally.”

“We’ll need headquarters,” Neville said.

Harry shrugged. “I guess we use the manor.”

“No, too obvious,” Ron said. “We need somewhere no one else could think of.”

The room was quiet as people thought. Draco cleared his throat nervously. “Erm – Malfoy Manor?”

There was a sharp intake of breath, but Hermione’s voice only slightly wavered as she said loudly, “It’s a really good idea, actually. Nobody lives there, and no one would expect us to use it, even if it becomes known that Draco’s on our side.”

Draco bit his lip. “If we use the kitchen, we don’t have to go through th - the drawing room,” he said quietly. Hermione nodded faintly as Ron squeezed her hand.

Harry rubbed his forehead. He really didn’t fancy going back there, but he could see the benefits. “Luna? ‘Mione?”

Luna smiled and calmly agreed. “As long as I never have to see the dungeons.”

Harry frowned. “Actually, Draco, that gives me an idea. Can we use the dungeons?”

The room went silent as Harry realised what he’d just asked. He bit his lip. “I’ll explain in a moment.”

“Yes, Potter, you can use the dungeons,” Draco said uncertainly.

“And – I mean, we got out…” Harry asked quietly.

Draco frowned. “I shouldn’t think so, provided whoever is standing guard doesn’t owe the captive a life debt,” he said pointedly.

Harry nodded. “Okay, so Malfoy Manor is HQ. Okay with everyone?”

As everyone agreed quietly, Harry refilled everybody’s glasses with a. wave of his hand. “I need to tell you all something,” he glanced at Neville nervously. “Bellatrix isn’t dead.”

The reaction was instantaneous. George’s glass splintered in his grip. Ginny punched a hole in the plastered wall. Luna put her head in her hands. Dean flushed an angry red and slammed his fist on the table as Seamus used his extensive vocabulary. Draco went deathly pale before going a very light green. Harry itched to hold his hand for comfort but refrained. Neville didn’t look surprised.

At Harry’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “I won’t believe it until I see a corpse.”

Harry nodded. He should’ve known as much himself. When silence returned, he said tiredly, “I can’t tell you how she survived. But she’s in the forbidden forest. I don’t know how alive she is exactly. She could be anywhere between a barely moving corpse and a fully functional Death Eater – maybe even saner, and cleverer than we knew her.”

Harry took a sip of his whiskey – now tasting oddly of pizza, an effect that was surprisingly pleasant. “We can’t tell the Ministry.”

No one asked why. Although no one had said anything directly, they all knew that Greyback hadn’t offed himself. They needed information, and Bellatrix was the way to do it.

“When you’re done with her, Harry, …,” Neville trailed off.

Harry frowned. “Are you sure, Nev?” he asked quietly. “You’d be a murderer.”

Neville looked pained but nodded. “For my parents.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! Here is another chapter; an interlude, if you will. More to come soon (and much sooner than the last couple of chapters) xx

Harry had left early from their gathering that evening at Hermione’s insistence. Her intention was for him to go home and get some much-deserved (and needed) sleep, but there was just too much to do before his expedition to the forest the following afternoon. Most notably, Draco and his mother were to move in by the following morning, and Harry hadn’t even thought of starting packing yet – not to mention the horcrux of Narcissa’s sister hanging in the basement.

Fortunately, half of his problem had been solved already through the combined efforts of Kreacher and Roslyn.

“Master Harry,” Kreacher croaked. “You is hungry?”

Harry smiled fondly. Kreacher had only been gone for a few days, but already he missed the elf – a sentiment that no doubt had Sirius turning in his grave. Without Kreacher’s annoying yet well-meaning reminders, Harry had only eaten twice in the time since he’d left and hadn’t slept once. “Is there anything going?”

Kreacher popped away and re-appeared with a tray of sandwiches and a large mug of coffee. “Kreacher and Roslyn is finished the packing.”

“Brilliant!” Harry said enthusiastically, taking a grateful sip from the mug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

“Suffer greatly,” Roslyn said helpfully, snapping her fingers as the final boxes disappeared. Harry wasn’t entirely sure how all of these things had accumulated – he only really wore a rotation of three shirts, one pair of jeans, and a jumper Molly had given him for Christmas in his sixth year – although, he supposed Hermione had “borrowed” a fair few books from the Black family library, and it seemed Draco was determined to completely transform his and Teddy’s wardrobes.

The elves left only after he’d finished the sandwiches and after several promises that Harry would attempt to sleep for more than five hours. Roslyn passed him a few small bottle of dreamless sleep before she cracked away.

Harry sighed and drained the last of his coffee, before making his way to the kitchen and touching the door to the basement. Bella was waiting for him.

“My lord,” she said, bowing deeply. Harry felt a stab of guilt. The portrait believed that Harry would protect her, or, that he wouldn’t destroy her, and yet, Harry had all but just signed her death sentence. He mentally shook himself. The witch had murdered hundreds – tortured and orphaned thousands more; he couldn’t possibly feel sorry for her.

“Bella,” Harry greeted her quietly. “We’re moving to the Malfoy Manor,” he said, skipping formalities.

The witch blinked in surprise but smirked. “You really are cleverer than the Dark Lord gave you credit for,” she said thoughtfully.

Harry shrugged. He didn’t think he was particularly clever, just often underestimated. “Do you have any other portraits?” he asked.

Bellatrix pouted. “Several, but none that I can access. I thought I might be able to go between them, like a normal portrait, but it seems that the horcrux is contained to this frame.”

Harry frowned. It sounded plausible, but Harry had no way of ensuring that she was telling the truth, beyond the threat of violence, and he thought she might be less willing to cooperate if he acted on those particular urges. He nodded absently. “Your husband and his brother escaped the aurors today,” he said, choosing not to highlight that he was one of the said aurors.

Bella rolled her eyes. “Foolish men,” she shook her head. Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t known how she would react to the news, but he certainly hadn’t expected that. The witch folded her arms across her chest. “Their master is dead. They’d gain far more advantage if they attempted to align themselves with the new order, instead of making futile attempts to flee or resist. Regardless, by right of conquest, they are yours. They should beg forgiveness of their lord, as I have done.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure when Bellatrix had begged his forgiveness, but he acquiesced with what he hoped was a regal nod. “Tell me more about that – the right of conquest.”

“According to tradition, a Lord’s vassal must obey and serve their master, and follow them into battle. If their Lord is defeated, they become the vassal of the victor,” Bellatrix said matter-of-factly, almost sounding bored. “They must either swear allegiance to their new Lord or be disposed of in a manner of which the Lord sees fit.”

Harry’s heart flipped. All anyone had talked about for months had been the proposed bill for all convicted Death Eaters to have a Dementor’s kiss. He made a mental note to follow up with Hermione on the matter. Did he have a legal right as the “victor” of the war to request a different sentencing? He paused at that: what on earth would he counter-propose? He couldn’t ask for them to be held indefinitely at Azkaban; for one thing, as George had pointed out, the prison was far too easy to break out of, and he was sure the Ministry’s budget didn’t need such a large strain. He rubbed his scar. “Why would someone sign up to be a vassal anyway? Voldemort had plenty of followers that weren’t bound to him in that way. And people used to follow him for his charisma and power, not just out of fear. You were in love with him, and you believed he loved you too. Why did you volunteer to be his vassal?”

Bellatrix looked sad then. “A Lord accepts obedience and servitude in exchange for his protection and a share in his power, whether that be politically, financially, legally or magically. The Dark Lord was … lacking in this part of the exchange.” She laughed bitterly. “I was foolish to think he would protect anyone other than himself.”

“He told you about horcruxes,” Harry offered gently, before realising he was not only attempting to _comfort_ Bellatrix Lestrange, but also _defending_ Voldemort. He shook his head slightly to rid his mind of that particular path of thought. It made more sense now, why Draco was determined to keep making Oaths and Vows to him, and why Narcissa had so quickly acquiesced to coming under Harry’s protection. He frowned. Why hadn’t Draco mentioned the right of conquest? Harry found it hard to believe that he simply didn’t know – he was far too clever and calculating for that. Did he think Harry would be like Voldemort, if he knew of his power? Harry sighed and rubbed his scar again. He needed a drink. “How do I find Rabastan and Rodolphus?” he asked. “There must be a way for a Lord to call on his vassals.”

Bellatrix smiled at him in a way he was sure was not meant to be threatening. “Why, of course. A vassal is an extension of his lord’s magic. In the same way one can find objects and wards of their own casting, so too can a lord find a vassal.” She paused and looked at him critically. “For you to succeed in this, you must first become a true lord – you must accept within yourself that you are your vassal’s rightful lord and that they belong to you. Is my lord Potter up for this task?”

Harry shuddered at the thought of the Lestrange brothers ‘belonging’ to him. “What about your life source, then? Can I locate it in the same way?” he asked curiously. “You told me it was in the Forbidden Forest, but I’ll need more information than that.”

“Yes, my lord,” Bellatrix said in what was no doubt an attempt to sound demure and imploring, but her eyes grew wider at the reminder that Harry intended to access her life source. “You are a wise and fair lord – you would not harm a loyal servant?”

Harry clenched his jaw as he took out his wand. “Let’s go, Bella,” he said quietly, and cast a strong _muffliato_ on the painting, before shrinking it and putting it in his jacket pocket. _Accioing_ the remaining darke objects from the cells, he took one final look at his basement before making his way up the stairs and into the kitchen. The door swung closed behind him. “ _Abscondaris,_ ” he cast, and the door disappeared.

Harry took the stairs three-at-a-time until he reached Sirius’ old room, which, despite the new furnishings and a rudimentary dusting, courtesy of Kreacher, still had several inappropriate muggle posters permanently stuck to the walls. Wrapping his godfather’s jacket tighter around him, Harry collapsed into the large four-poster bed (jarringly Gryffindor-red and contrasting greatly with the moss-green carpet), downed two bottles of Dreamless Sleep, and let the darkness swallow him whole.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry lads for the hiatus. I had severe writer's block + also real-life stuff going on... anyway hope everyone had a wonderful end of year holiday :)

Harry had his wand in his hand before he even opened his eyes, and his attacker was in an _incarcerous_ before his head had left the pillow.

“Harry,” Hermione’s familiar voice admonished.

Harry reached for his glasses on the bedside table and frowned apologetically as he ended the spell. “Sorry, ‘mione,” he winced, watching as the witch gracefully stepped from the ropes that had been holding her to the wall.

She pursed her lips as she banished them. “I am glad you managed to get some sleep, but I’ll have you know that I’m entirely against using Dreamless. You’re nearly impossible to wake up when you take it, and one of us always ends up at the nasty end of a wand.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t sleep if I don’t take it,” Harry grumbled, although perhaps two bottles had been an overkill.

Hermione attempted to look sympathetic, but, in a very Hermione-like manner, quickly got to business. “Mrs. Malfoy and Draco will be arriving any moment. You should get ready.”

Harry nodded absently, his mind already filled with thoughts of vassals and lords. “Have you ever heard of the right of conquest before?” he asked as he dressed quickly in the robes Hermione thrust at him. “I think we may be able to find the Lestranges with it.”

“I’ve come across it a lot in my readings on bonds recently, actually,” Hermione said, waving her wand to neatly make the bed, before primly sitting on the edge. “Lords could invoke it after defeating another Lord in battle, and the defeated Lord’s allies would become their own.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Bellatrix said something similar last night. But she kept saying the word ‘vassal’ – whatever that means.”

“Well, a ‘vassal’ in muggle English is used to refer to a subordinate in a feudal system. I suppose that makes sense, since the last references to people invoking the right of conquest seems that I’ve seen date back to the Middle Ages,” Hermione said, throwing a hairbrush at him. Harry rolled his eyes- they both knew it would do nothing. “But no-one’s used it in centuries – how will it help us find the Lestranges?”

Harry shook his head. “Apparently Voldemort’s corrupted slave bond thing that he used to make the dark mark made the Death Eaters his vassals. According to Bellatrix, since I defeated him, I can invoke the right of conquest. His vassals would become my vassals.”

“And you’d be able to track them down,” Hermione surmised. “It’s an interesting theory. Do you even know how to invoke it?”

“No, but I know someone who will,” Harry said grimly.

Narcissa Malfoy nearly collapsed as she stepped out of Harry’s floo and into the formal sitting room of Grimmauld Place. Draco emerged from the green flames quickly after and was by her side in an instant, gently holding her elbow.

Harry winced. Where the woman had once been regal and frightening, she now in equal parts seemed weak and terrified – deathly pale with dark shadows under her eyes. Her pureblood rearing, however, seemed to not have faded as she attempted to curtsey low to Harry. He cursed and caught her other elbow as she nearly toppled over again.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry greeted gently. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Narcissa smiled weakly and lowered herself into an armchair. “Please, my lord, call me Narcissa.”

“Only if you call me Harry,” he said.

Narcissa gracefully lowered her head. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, my lord.”

Harry wanted to argue but caught Draco’s hard glare. He paused. Addressing Narcissa, but looking directly at Draco, he asked, “Because I’m your son’s employer, because I’m letting you live in my house, because I’m the Head of the House of Black, or because your son, and you by proxy, are my vassals?”

Draco’s eyes widened slightly, telling Harry all he needed to know. Narcissa laughed in surprise. “I see you have indeed been studying the Old Ways,” she said in delight, some strength seeming to return to her. “There were some amongst us who practice that were concerned you would not take the necessary steps.”

Harry removed his gaze from Draco’s and inclined his head. “Your son is a talented instructor, Narcissa,” he complimented, lying through his teeth. “And, as ‘your Lord’, I’d ask that you call me Harry, at least in private company.”

“Very well then, Harry,” Narcissa said, still smiling. “Your manners have improved drastically in the time my son has been working for you.”

Draco hissed, “Mother!” His cheeks burned red, and Narcissa patted his hand, as mothers were wont to do after embarrassing their child. In other circumstances, the interaction would be almost normal, but Narcissa’s hand shook terribly as she performed the action, and Draco was eyeing Harry far too nervously.

Hermione and Ron soon entered the room, the latter carrying an unbearably cute Teddy in a tiny version of some dress robes. Harry stood and took the infant, who gurgled in delight and changed his hair from dark blue to black briefly, before returning to his currently-preferred style of bubblegum pink.

“Narcissa,” Harry said, lifting Teddy high into the air before placing him on his hip, “This is your great-nephew, Teddy Lupin.”

The witch smiled, her eyes twinkling with something akin to regret. “Pleasure to meet you, Edward,” she said quietly. “He looks like his grandmother.”

Harry nodded, his throat sticking slightly. He actually had no idea if Teddy looked like his grandmother, having only met Andromeda Tonks once and embarrassingly mistaking her for Bellatrix, but his godson’s wrinkled nose when he was grumpy certainly reminded him of Tonks, and Harry supposed she must have gotten the expression from somewhere. He sat down, shifting his godson to his lap, and waved his hand, transforming Narcissa’s chair into a rather comfortable looking wheelchair. “I was wondering if you’d like Ron and Hermione to show you around. I just need to talk to Draco about something quickly.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry, glancing at the very vulnerable infant bouncing on his lap, before escorting Narcissa out of the room, asking a vague question about Pledging ceremonies. Harry considered for a minute before shaking his head and regretfully handing his godson back to Ron. It felt like eons since he had spent quality time with Teddy, but he really didn’t think he should be present for this particular conversation.

Ron paused before taking him, eyeing his best mate carefully. Harry raised an eyebrow until Ron nodded and took Teddy. At the door he turned and said quietly, “Careful.”

“Not Him,” Harry said lowly, before turning to Draco. Ron closed the door.


End file.
